The Ending
by sketchAvolie
Summary: Merlin's magic is revealed and there are forces working against him and the creation of Albion. Follows the story of Merlin, Arthur, and some of the knights surrounding them after Merlin's secret is revealed. Canon up to 5x06, *SPOILER* acknowledges the death, not explicitly, of a knight in 5x06. Many more chapters to come.
1. Chapter 1

Merlin stood, frozen and vulnerable in the middle of the field, feeling all eyes and faces turned towards him.

_This wasn't how it was supposed to happen…No, not like this…_

Shock and fear swept over him as he stood there, the silence filling the field thickly and strongly. No one seemed willing or even able to break it. Finally, he broke eye contact with the ground and sought out the eyes and face he needed to see most. Arthurs.

It was like a magnet. He didn't even scan the field, he just looked up and saw the shock in Arthurs face. Shock, then fear. Then betrayal. Merlin hoped that his own fear and desperation didn't show through as much as he felt it. He might as well finish what he's started here though, to get rid of the army.

Taking a deep breath, he roared out the next incantation to dispel the opposing army- Morgana had attacked with an army of mercenaries and bandits that vastly outnumbered Camelot's knights; there was no way Arthur could possibly win.

A storm cloud began to form rapidly in the just previously clear sky. Lightning and thunder struck, wind whipped around them and everyone stood in awe of what was happening. Merlin had his hand held out in front of him, and lightning seemed to be striking him, but instead was being concentrated into a large pulsing ball of energy. Those who still stood in the field took off at a run. Anyone who stayed behind would have been struck with the lightning Merlin now seemed to control. The flashing in his eyes and face was terrible, and sent shivers down even the King's back.

_This is not the Merlin I know. Who the hell is this? What the hell is this?_

After the field had been cleared of Morgana's army, Merlin lowered his hand down to his side. He looked back at Arthur and saw the King looking at him with a look he had never seen. _Fear? Hatred? Anger? Confusion? _Probably a mixture of all of those, and more.

Arthur now was walking up to him, the knights joining his ranks. Merlin's heart was pounding, and it took every bit of concentration to keep himself from turning and running away into the forest himself, or even from just passing out.

Arthur now stood directly in front of Merlin, not three feet away. Merlin turned his eyes downward, and fell to his knees in submission and shame.

"Sire, I have been lying to you and keeping secrets from you," he tried to keep his voice as steady as possible, but it cracked with the next part. "I place myself at your mercy."

The moments drew on. What must have been no more than five seconds to an outside observer seemed to those in the field hours.

"Explain."

Merlin flinched visibly at his master's voice, which was full of restrained and contained anger and hurt.

Merlin looked up at him, and opened his mouth, no sound coming out. He closed it again.

"_Explain_."

Once again, Merlin tried, but his voice seemed to have abandoned him. Suddenly he felt a blade at his throat.

"Explain why I shouldn't just kill you right now for treason against the crown," Arthur demanded.

Merlin had let out a small whimper at feeling the blade already sticky with blood from the battle come into contact with his skin. Clearing his throat, he tried once more.

"I'm so sorry," he started. And suddenly the rest followed; why he came to Camelot, their first encounter, conjuring the blue orb for Arthur to follow in the cave, the convenient success they've always had against the odds. The dragon.

He faltered slightly when he started to talk about freeing Kilgharrah, but figured that he best tell the whole truth. He talked about Balinor, lying to Arthur about killing the Great Dragon, and Aithusa. _Aithusa…_

He had almost forgotten about the original intent of that mission, and when he looked up to see Arthur's reaction at the news of a second dragon, all he saw was a stone cold face of practiced hatred and horror. This was the face of Uther looking upon any sorcerer or someone accused of magic. This face finally made Merlin's voice stop in shock and horror.

He realized that he had also talked about Uther's death. _Oh God, no, no._

"You're that old man."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement of realization.

"Yes, but no, wait, Arthur, hear me out, please—"

"You killed my father. I can see it in your eyes, you… you…" he searched for the right word. "You murderer. You traitor. You sorcerer," he spat out the last word like it caused his mouth to taste foul.

"No, please, listen! Morgana was working against me that night, I swear! I tried to heal Uther, you were there, you saw the spell work!" he cried in desperation.

The sword at his throat, which had not moved, pushed further into his neck; he felt his own blood trickle down his Addams apple.

"Who else have you killed Merlin? Who else has died at your hand? Nimueh you said. You showed no emotion at having to poison Morgana, who was still a friend. Who have you hurt with your curse?"

Merlin looked up at him in disbelief. _This couldn't be happening. No, this wasn't how it was supposed to go, no. _This man, Arthur, with all the hatred and betrayal in his face as he looked down upon his servant. This man was supposed to help bring back magic. Merlin was supposed to help him. This was not how this was supposed to happen.

Arthur looked at him expectantly, no, demandingly.

Taking another breath, Merlin was barely able to croak out the next word.

"Agravaine."

The rest of the group stirred at this. Agravaine had had a personal relationship with all of them, whether professional or familiar. They knew him to be a traitor, but how could this small, clumsy servant ever take out someone like that? But then, they remembered, look what Merlin had singlehandedly done to this army of sorcerers.

Arthur finally took down his sword. Merlin breathed a bit easier, but was still tense and terrified. His master stuck his sword into the ground and started pacing in the area of about ten feet. He suddenly stopped and looked at Merlin directly in the eye.

"Arrest him."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you guys for all the support and reviews! Unfortunately, it has been brought up that this is the last series of Merlin, and I just want to thank you guys, as part of the fandom, for making this whole show so much more than just a show. You're all amazing. And for the love of Camelot, never stop loving Merlin. 3**

**PS, idk if this is a thing I need to do, but I don't own Merlin, the person or the show. Nor Colin Morgan, and that just makes me sad. **

**Enjoy! (and please review!)**

The knights, suddenly being addressed, took a moment to comprehend what they had just been ordered to do. Two finally stepped forward and grabbed Merlin's arms. Percival and Leon were firm but gentle as they handled him. Refusing to break eye contact with Arthur, Merlin lost all ideas of containing his desperation. He had to make Arthur understand, he had to prove that magic could be trusted.

_Yes, I've done a great start at that, lying to my best friend,_ he mused bitterly.

"I will decide what to do with you back at Camelot. For now, you are under arrest for treason and practicing magic," said Arthur.

He had Merlin's hands tied behind his back and they rode back to the white city. Merlin was granted enough to at least ride on with Leon on his horse, though the precautions taken to prevent Merlin's escape were unnecessary. Merlin wanted to trust his friend, and would not abandon him for his own sake.

When they reached the castle, Merlin was handed over to the guards and sent to the dungeons. He did not resist.

Arthur called an urgent meeting of the Round Table, making sure that all knights and members of the court were there for the discussion. The discussion about what to do with Merlin.

Gaius walked in, looked confused and concerned. They had not sent him any wounded soldiers from the battle, and the king had never before called such a meeting as this on short notice. Looking around, he noticed someone missing.

"Where's Merlin?" the tone of concern heightened in his voice and he looked worriedly around the room.

"In the dungeons, Gaius," replied Arthur, voice full of bitterness as a thought made itself present in his mind. "Wouldn't have a guess as to why, would you?"

"The dungeons, Sire?" he looked genuinely confused. "None whatsoever, why?"

"You know Merlin better than any one of us Gaius. You're telling me that you didn't know?"

"Know about what?"

"Oh come off it, you know exactly what I'm talking about," he was barely able to keep his voice at a steady level without shouting.

Still, though Gaius' anxious look was becoming more and more poignant, he kept a mask of confusion as the forefront of his emotions.

"His _magic,_ Gaius. Don't worry, I know. And it would be a lot better for you right now to admit to knowing about it than trying to pretend any longer," Arthur hadn't tried to make it sound like a threat, but that was how it came out. He could afford no luxury in allowing for the loopholes others could take advantage of.

Gaius' face suddenly went from masked confusion to masked comprehension, though the worry and anxiety expressed doubled visibly.

"Ah," was all that he could get out.

The silence around the Table was tangible as everyone stared between them.

Finally, "how did you find out?" was the next question, posed by Gaius.

"What does it matter, the man betrayed me, my trust, and all this kingdom stands for."

"It matters a great deal, my lord, as the very nature of this reveal can tell you everything about Merlin's magic and loyalty that you need," replied Gaius. "Sire."

"It makes no difference to the crimes he's committed and the people he's killed. It makes no difference to the law whether his intentions were good or evil. The man lied to me Gaius, directly to me, for so many years. How could I not think that he has an ulterior motive? Why would such a man be willing to just remain my servant and obey me, when he should be hiding from me, scared of me? How can I trust someone who hid this from me for so long? Someone who helped hide this from me?"

The difference in his tone was apparent. He no longer spoke only of Merlin.

"Sire, it was not my secret to keep. And you have not shown very promising views on magic, so how could he reveal himself without risking his own life?"

Arthur was fuming. Gaius had a responsibility to the crown. He was the only court physician, the only one that the people and nobles knew personally and trusted, literally, with their lives. How could Gaius keep this from him?

"If you would excuse me, Sire," Gaius said coldly, "I have a patient that needs my attention. I will come back to discuss this with you shortly." He left the room.

Nodding to two knights, Arthur instructed that he be followed.

Now turning his attention to the rest of the Table, Arthur looked around._ If Gaius had been keeping secrets, who else was?_

"Who knew?"

Silence.

"Who. Knew?"

The knights shifted nervously in their seats, waiting for anyone to talk.

"Did none of you?"

Gwaine spoke up, "I could have guessed, but what good does it do to act on a guess like that?"

All eyes turned to him. How could anyone have possibly guessed at Merlin's magic?

"There were just, times," he explained, "when we all seemed to be too lucky and Merlin would seem too agitated that we accredited our success to luck."

"Fine," sighed Arthur, "anyone else?"

No one stirred. Deciding to move on, he now posed the next problem.

"So, now what should we do?"

The obvious answer was to stick to the law, to execute any and all persons with magic. But Merlin had a connection to all the knights; he was their little brother. Their trusted friend.

Arthur spoke what was on all their minds, "I don't want to kill him."

Silence.

"But… he has betrayed my trust. He has broken a law that he was fully aware of, he has lied to each and every one of us. Such treason cannot be forgiven."

"But Sire," Gwaine protested, "this is Merlin. He's known you longer than I've known him, if he wanted you dead or for Camelot to fall, he could have done so years ago. He's had plenty of perfect opportunities. Or he could have even just stepped aside as Morgana or someone attacked. But he has fought with us and for us in every battle. Today, did you see that he only attacked Morgana's army? I doubt that his loyalty to you and to Camelot is at all questionable."

Leon spoke up, "but why keep it secret for so long? Why not tell anyone? What if he needed to keep Arthur and Camelot alive for something? Waiting for the right moment to strike?"

"There's been plenty of those, mate," answered Gwaine. "Do you not realize how often we get attacked? The 'right moment,' as you put it, has presented itself countless times to Merlin; he could have easily killed all of us and made it look like an accident."

"The real question here," put in Percival, "is can magic be trusted? I have always had my doubts and concerns with magic, but then again I've never known a sorcerer the way we all know Merlin."

"I agree with the King," declared Mordred loudly. "I agree that the law must be held in these matters. Magic cannot be allowed in Camelot."

Everybody stared at him. He had seemed friendly with Merlin, though he was one of the newest knights and probably knew Merlin the least.

"I don't believe you have executed a sorcerer yet in your time as King, Sire," he continued, looking at Arthur. "But I believe that you must stay with the law in these matters."

"Thank you, Mordred," replied the King, rather shocked. "But I never did say that my decision was to execute Merlin."

Silence followed, and after a few minutes of no one talking, Arthur dismissed the knights, to resume the debate tomorrow. Slowly they all filed out, Mordred and Gwaine lingering slightly, but soon they followed the rest when it became apparent that Arthur needed to be alone.

Once in the hall, both Gwaine and Mordred shot each other dirty glances, then ran off in opposite directions. Mordred to the dungeons, Gwaine to Gaius.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note:**

**Hello, guys! Wow, your reviews and responses to this make me really happy, and I'm extremely grateful that you all are enjoying it!**

**Let me just say something: when I say "many more chapters to come," I mean many. I have about 18 chapters already written, and I'm not very close to resolving everything.**

**Another thing is how I will upload these chapters: For the longer chapters, I will post once a week (Saturdays, probably). With shorter chapters (Less than 800 words) I will post two a week. Hopefully that makes sense... If not, just kinda check back about once a week, there should be a new chapter. **

**Thanks for all your support and follows!**

* * *

Gaius had originally intended to go down to the dungeons to visit Merlin, but once he saw that that he was being followed by the guards, decided to head back to his chambers.

Gwaine needed to talk to Gaius about Merlin. He needed answers about his friend if he was going to defend him. Walking into Gaius' chambers, Gwaine saw Gaius, sitting by an empty bed, with no patient. It was obvious the old man had been crying.

"I'm sorry, if this isn't a good time…" Gwaine felt suddenly self conscious about his barging in unannounced.

"No, no Sir, please, come in, sit down," said Gaius hurriedly, dabbing at his eyes. "I know why you're here. You have questions and a friend facing death." His voice faltered slightly at the last word.

"Yes, I do. I want to do what I can for Merlin, I need to help him out of this. I owe him a lot, you could say," replied Gwaine, thinking of all the trouble he had gotten Merlin into in the past.

"Well, there's quite a lot. What's really important is that the King realizes all that Merlin has done for him and in his name. Magic is not inherently evil, but this seems to have escaped the Pendragon family. It is what the sorcerer or warlock does with his or her magic that determines whether they are 'good' or 'evil.' There is both light and dark magic in everyone; it simply depends on which you act on that determines your status in this world."

"And Merlin has only used his for good?"

"Yes, though I know that he has been sorely tempted by the dark side several times, especially when things look bleak for his future and that of those he loves. And, due to his immense power as a warlock, he is wanted as an asset by those who practice dark magic, though many on that side also want him dead. He has stuck with Arthur for far too long for there to be any real hope of him switching sides. Though Arthur's decision in the next few days could possible change that."

"Do you really think so? You think Merlin would really fight against Camelot?"

Gaius paused. "No," he finally said. "But if Arthur decided to persecute him, he, and anyone else for that matter if they were in his place, would be less inclined to work with Arthur to help him."

"Can you tell me more about Merlin's… gift? Arthur called it a curse, but in a different world I think it's the coolest thing."

Gaius then started on a whole speech that almost sounded rehearsed, about magic, specifically Merlin's magic, his powers, his connections, and his past. Gwaine listened attentively, interrupting only when confused by a term or he needed further explanation.

* * *

Mordred had left for the dungeons after the council meeting. He needed to talk to Merlin. Of course, Mordred had been there when Merlin revealed his power and had listened to the whole thing. When Arthur had called for anyone who knew about Merlin's magic, he knew there could be no way of explaining himself out of that without revealing his own secret.

Finally reaching Merlin's cell, he looked in. Merlin was sitting on the ground against the wall, his eyes closed and anxiety written across his face.

"Merlin."

His eyes opened, and he looked blankly at Mordred.

"Hey. What are you doing down here?"

"Just checking in. Are you alright? Well, at least as alright as you can be?"

"Yes, I suppose. The thing I hate about the dungeons most is that there's nothing to do. Usually I'm running around after Arthur, doing all his chores and working for Gaius. But, well… you know." He gestured around the room. "This just gives me too much time to think about what happened and what I could have done better; I've been rerunning all the times I could have said something, all the times when Arthur was definitely open to change that I let pass. I can't believe I've been such an idiot!"

"Why don't you just break out then? I know you can."

Merlin shook his head, "No, I need to know what Arthur's decision is. I need to show him that I will always remain loyal to him." He thought for a moment, "even if he decides to execute me."

"You don't really think that he will?"

"I don't know…" he looked truly lost and desperate.

"Well don't worry. I've been advocating for you. I'm doing everything in my power to persuade the King to spare your life."

Merlin looked surprised at this. "Really? Thank you, Mordred. To be honest, I didn't expect that from you…" he looked at Mordred curiously.

"Of course," said Mordred, looking rather affronted. "Of course I would. We're kin, Merlin, you and I. We share the same gift, the same persecution. I can only imagine what you're going through."

They stood, looking at each other, trying to figure the other out. Finally Mordred took his leave, explaining that he would be missed soon if someone noticed his absence. Merlin was left to his own musings.

Why would Mordred try to help him? Merlin had shown in the past that he was more or less willing to kill Mordred himself. The old words haunted him as he thought back: _I shall never forgive this, Emrys. And I shall never forget. _


	4. Chapter 4

**This isn't a new chapter, but I want to put this out there for opinions:**

**I recieved a few reviews/messages saying that I should upload more. This suggestion was given by ruby890:**

**...Can't wait for the updates but I think you should update them all two times a week that way I can remember what happened. This time I had to go back and read the first two chapters again.**

**Would this be better? I don't want you all to have to go back and reread all the chapters again. Like I said, I already have quite a few chapters already written, but I was going to just kind of pace myself with posting. Let me know if you have any suggestions or you agree with this idea.**

**And because I feel guilty for wasting a chapter, here you go. I lied. **

* * *

Of the rest of the court, only Gwen had stayed behind with Arthur, though she knew he had meant for her to leave as well. She sat, looking intently at her husband, waiting for him to say something.

"Guinevere, I need you to leave as well. I want to be alone."

"You don't have to be. You don't need to bare this burden alone."

"As King, I do. This…betrayal, has led me to realize that I can truly trust no one."

"I see. And what about me, Arthur? Your wife? Do I count for nothing?"

"No, it's not like that. But I am the sovereign in this kingdom, no one can possibly understand, no one can possibly be trusted as I can when it comes to ruling this land."

"You sound like Uther."

Arthur looked up at this accusation, startled by the coldness in her voice.

"I am NOT my father, Guinevere. I will not rule this country the way he did."

"Oh, really? Is that why you're debating with yourself on whether or not to execute your best friend? Is that why I and my counsel are suddenly not welcomed? Is that why you threatened Gaius earlier, and you hold the same fear and hatred of magic as Uther did? Yes, Arthur, I can see very well that you are your father's son. Now try to decide if that's something you are truly proud of."

And with that, she left, leaving the King to his own thoughts, more chaotic and incoherent than ever.

* * *

Gwen went down to the dungeons after telling off her husband, knowing that she shouldn't have said what she said, but it needed to be done. She could not be married to a second Uther.

She was so consumed by her musings that she didn't notice as Mordred passed her on his way back from the dungeons. She reached Merlin's cell, sending the guards to the other room for more privacy (Arthur had placed guards at his cell door to ensure that Merlin could not escape). Looking at Merlin, her heart filled with pity and remorse. Merlin had sat back down on ground against the wall, his face in his hands, clearly lost in thought.

"Merlin?"

He looked up, "Gwen! What are you doing here?"

"Come to see how you were. Are you alright? I can't believe Arthur put you in here, it's simply not fair."

"No, it's fair. I understand why he's done what he's done. I may've done the same."

"It's not fair, it's not ok, and I will get you out of here, I promise."

They both smiled at the familiar but reversed role.

"You have a good heart Gwen. Never lose that."

"Now you sound like you're just giving up! You can't say things like that, Merlin!"

"I'm serious. Whatever you do, Gwen, don't change. Don't lose what makes you, you."

She smiled sadly. "Never," she promised.

Merlin had stood up and through the bars of the cell they tried to hug each other.

Merlin stood back and looked sadly at Gwen. "How are the others taking it?"

"Gwaine is upset at Arthur's indecision. In his mind, the only answer is to let you go free." Merlin smiled at this. "Leon just seems to not trust magic, and Percival is conflicted. They all are, actually. They've been raised and taught to hate and fear magic; I think knowing someone as close as they know you, and then finding out you have magic really shook them. Except for Gwaine and Mordred, actually. They seem set in their ways."

"What was Mordred's reaction?" It seemed reasonable to ask, to verify his previous visitor's claims.

She paused. "He… well, he believes that the law needs to be upheld in this matter. He put forth the suggestion that Arthur stick to the law."

"He wants me executed."

"Yes." Gwen looked anxious. Merlin was trying to make sense of it all. He knew he couldn't trust Mordred, and even less so could Arthur trust Mordred, but he didn't know that. Arthur was practically infatuated with the young Knight, he was always so excited by his progress in training.

"Merlin?" Gwen brought him out of his thoughts with a worried look on her face. "Merlin, I promise, the King will not execute you. I know he will be merciful and just in this decision. I promise you won't die."

A sad smile formed on Merlin's face. "Of course, Gwen. Thank you," he went to sit down on his cot turned away from her.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day the Table met again, this time, with Gaius present. Arthur wanted to reach a decision as soon as possible, but he was much too confused. He needed guidance and advice on the matter, but talking to the knights seemed to have made everything worse. Leon kept going back and forth on letting Merlin free and exiling him. Percival was trying to convince him that magic was at the heart of this (which it was), but in a way that it could only be seen as good or evil. Gwaine had freely expressed his view that if any harm should come to Merlin, Arthur would have the full force of Gwaine's wrath to deal with, and Mordred hadn't said anything since the meeting yesterday. The rest of his advisors and knights did not have much of an opinion, but most were of the opinion that magic could not be trusted. Arthur hadn't taken the time yet to discuss things privately with Gaius, though he had plans to after this meeting.

Today's meeting went basically the same as yesterday's, and everyone left with even less of an idea of Merlin's fate.

"Gaius," called Arthur after the council dismissed.

The old man turned and came back into the room. "Yes, my Lord?"

"I have decided that you will not be held to any charges concerning this whole affair."

"Thank you, Sire, but it is not me that I am primarily concerned with."

"Of course. That's another thing I want to talk to you about," he gestured to a chair for Gaius to sit in.

"What would you like to know, Sire?"

"Everything. Everything about magic and the nature of magic. About Merlin's magic and his abilities. About everything that you can tell me."

"We'll be here all night and most of tomorrow."

"Then let's start."

Gaius then launched into the history of magic, and how it, yes, can be corrupted and used for evil, but can not a king use his power to be tyrant? He discussed the nature of the Great Purge, carefully tiptoeing around the role that Arthur's mother had in it. He then talked about Merlin's great power and how he was proved to be destined for something big, both from Druid prophesy and from the Great Dragon's knowledge. This led into Merlin's life in Camelot, and his role in saving and protecting Arthur's life. He left out specific stories, knowing them to be personal and up to Merlin to tell. The sun had indeed gone down and come back up again by the time Gaius seemed almost ready to be finished with his story.

When it was all over, Arthur remained silent. Gaius dismissed himself and went back to his chambers, hopeful that he had shown Arthur what a loyal and faithful servant Merlin is.

To Arthur, things were still confused. His whole life, he had been taught and even believed that magic was evil, that he could not trust it at all. And hadn't that very fact been proved to him time and time again? When Morgause had tricked him into believing Uther had killed his mother; when that old man (whom he now knew to be Merlin himself) killed his father; when Morgana attacked every few months with renewed vigor and hope in success. Magic was a force that needed to be treated with caution – when playing with fire, one had to make sure not to get burned.

And how many innocent people had died that way? At his father's hand, at his hand? What crime had they actually committed? The Druids were peaceful, yet how many raids against their camps had he led, killing men, women, and children? He already made peace with the Druids, but had done nothing about other sorcerers potentially in the kingdom. He had offered them no solace, no hope for freedom. Uther's words came into his mind: _She played with fire, now she must die by fire._

That had been a close call for Guinevere. He shuddered to remember when she was almost put to death under suspicion of sorcery. But Uther had been unjust in that decision; he had heard the words "magic" and "Guinevere" and put them together as one without any thought. And then that old man had come and conveniently took the blame. _Merlin took the blame… _

He groaned as he leaned forward, face in his hands, suddenly overwhelmed with lack of sleep and stress.

"Arthur?"

He looked up. Mordred had walked in without his noticing. Immediately shaking off his fatigue, Arthur sat up straight in his chair and faced the knight.

"Ah, yes, Mordred. What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if I could talk to you about…" he gestured widely to the air, "all this."

Understanding he meant everything to do with Merlin, he replied, "of course. But I think I already know your opinion, right? You want me to keep up the law for this."

"Well, yes Sire, but there's more about it."

"And that is…?"

"Well, it's like Percival's been saying. It's about magic itself. The decision here isn't so much about Merlin, but about allowing magic back in Camelot."

Arthur knew this already. "Your point being…"

"Well, since this is your first true case of having to deal with magic, the people are waiting for your decision just as much as Merlin or anyone else is. If you let Merlin free, the people will realize that that is an acceptance of magic. If you merely exile Merlin, you would be seen as merciful and soft. If you were to execute Merlin, the people would see that you hold strong to your beliefs, and that you will not tolerate any sort of magic within Camelot."

"I can tell you have problems with the first two options, spit it out."

"Well, if you free Merlin and allow for the return of magic, the people may believe that you are under an enchantment from Merlin. You have spent so much of your reign not really addressing the issue that people have assumed you hold the same and unmoving views as your father. If, suddenly, when a man with magic is facing capital punishment for magic, you decide to accept it, it will be seen as not your decision. And people under a king they believe to be enchanted are known to rise up against that king. Not to mention that all eyes are on Camelot right now, rival kingdoms are watching to see what you decide and if they suspect you to be under a spell, they will know that Camelot and her king are weak and vulnerable.

"As for the second option, that would be an even greater sign of weakness. You would be seen as an indecisive King, willing to spare the lives of those close to him, but quick to set judgment against those who have not had the good fortune of knowing you for very long. This could also give other sorcerers hope and perhaps allow for a bit more freedom in their acts; soon enough, they'll be coming out of hiding and running mad with their newfound freedom. Give a man an inch, he'll take a mile, isn't that the saying? You can't afford to give them that inch, Sire. They'll see it, take it, and abuse it. That was what had happened before the Great Purge, was it not? There needs to be an example for what these people are to expect under your rule."

Arthur couldn't believe his ears. Mordred wanted him to use Merlin as an _example_ to his own kind, as a warning? He still held the young knight in respect, but he hadn't realized exactly how the man thought. Arthur realized that Mordred was continuing.

"Either of these options show you as weak and vulnerable to attack. You are still considered to be inexperienced in the eyes of many other monarchs around Camelot. You cannot afford to look weak or vulnerable. Holding to your laws is the best possible solution to this problem. "

Arthur had listened to this explanation very attentively, though his doubts about Mordred's logic doubled. He understood everything that was being said, even if he didn't quite buy it, and was a bit surprised at Mordred's understanding of the people and kings surrounding Camelot.

"Thank you, Mordred, for your insight. I will take all of that into consideration in my decision."

"Of course, Sire, thank you," said Mordred. He turned to leave, but hesitated.

"Was there something else?"

"Well, yes, Sire, actually," Mordred turned around looking slightly nervous and bashful. "I was wondering, if you'd be so kind, if you could possibly… only if you want to…" he stuttered.

"For God's sake, what is it?"

"Well, I have this pendant that used to belong to my mother, Sire. She kept it with her, until the day she died. Seeing as I'm leaving for about a week on leave, I was wondering if you could keep it safe for me? I don't quite trust anyone else with it. And as it's rather valuable, not just sentimentally, I would rather not take it with me on my travels, in fear of it getting lost or stolen. Would you please do me that favor?"

Arthur smiled at the young knights request. He did seem to start having a feeling that he did indeed give Mordred next week off for leave a few days ago, though he could not recall the exact instance. "Of course I will. I'll make sure no harm comes to it."

"Thank you, Sire," Mordred stepped forward pulling it out of his pocket. "See, I have it right here."

The pendant itself was rather large and made of gold, with three stones in the center, each a different color; green, blue, and red. There were strange inscriptions around each stone that swirled out from the center.

When handing it to the King, Mordred closed his hand around Arthur's, and if Arthur had looked up in time, he would have seen the golden flare of magic in Mordred's eyes.

* * *

**Author's note: Yeah, I know you guys probably hate me right now. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Authors Note:**

**Thank you guys for your amazing reviews and for following! I can't believe the response to this story, it makes me really happy when I think about it.**

**A couple issues were raised in the reviews:**

**1. Definitely do NOT worry about me leaving this story. I promise you that I will continue it until it finishes, and you have a long way to go.**

**2. This ties into (1), but I suggest that if you want to read this fanfic, that you stay with it as each chapter is posted. Don't wait until it's done, I'm on chapter 20 and the climax is not yet in sight. I'm doing my best to not drag this out, I just want it developed the way a an episode is (or should be). There are no "filler" chapters or anything, everything moves the story along. So don't hold your breath for the ending. Sorry. (Hey, look! The title!)**

**Thanks again guys! Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

The next day Arthur called the council to meet in the throne room and for Merlin to be brought up. He had made a decision. Guinevere had spoken to him the night before about Merlin, and his obvious innocence, fully confident that she was persuading Arthur to spare Merlin's life. When he went to bed, she still felt confident that he had listened and understood. In actuality, he had tuned out her words and rather wished she would stop talking.

Gwaine that morning had been trying again to convince Arthur to let Merlin off free, but again the King did not listen. He finally interrupted the knight by telling him he had made a decision, and then Gwaine's tactics changed to trying to get it out of him.

_God, this man's chatter is more relentless than Merlin's when hunting,_ Arthur thought to himself, exasperated.

The whole council, along with some villagers of minor importance, was found in the throne room at the time Arthur had set. Soon the guards came in with Merlin in tow, one on either side grabbing his arms. They brought Merlin to the center, and humbly of his own accord, he knelt in front of the King, waiting for judgment. He was confident that Arthur would not kill him, but knowing that Mordred was against him gave him reason to fear.

Mordred had left Camelot the night before, immediately after giving Arthur the pendant.

"Merlin."

He looked up into the face of his best friend.

"Arthur."

_What was that look in Arthur's eyes?_

"You have been charged with sorcery and treason."

_His mind seemed far away, like he wasn't quite realizing what was going on._

"I have talked to many people about this decision."

_There was definitely something wrong behind Arthur's eyes._

"And I have finally reached my decision, as king, for what would be best for my kingdom."

_His eyes even started to not look like Arthur's. There was someone else there…_

"As King, I, Arthur Pendragon, hereby sentence you to death by fire."

The entire room suddenly stopped breathing. Merlin's breath caught and he suddenly forgot all that he had just witnessed in Arthur's eyes. People's gazes turned from Merlin to Arthur, surprised, to say the least. This was not the path that Arthur had shown any remote interest in; in fact, Arthur seemed to oppose this more than any other option given to him.

Finally Merlin found his voice, "…What?"

"The execution is to take place in three days time," he addressed the rest of the room. "Dismissed."

As the guards came forward to grab Merlin to take him back to the dungeons to wait for death, he shouted, "You can't do this Arthur! Look at me!"

The King stared at him in eyes. Yes, someone who was definitely not Arthur was looking back with a look of hatred and pleasure in a sick and twisted combination.

"Yes I can. And I have. The order to build the pyre has already been given. Perhaps you shouldn't have lied to me, betrayed my trust. I cannot allow magic within this kingdom. An example for other sorcerers must be made."

And with that Merlin was led away in shock and horror.

* * *

With the words carrying Merlin's sentence, Gaius' heart seemed to have stopped. He thought he had saved Merlin's life the day before, explaining everything he could to Arthur. What had gone wrong?

* * *

Gwaine heard Merlin's sentence, but immediately thought it was a joke. But the silence continued. Merlin's face was crushed and horrified. Arthur made no attempt to take it back. When he heard that the pyre was already set to be built, he felt a crushing wave of horror, which crashed into anger. Anger at Arthur for being ridiculous. Anger at Merlin for having magic. Anger at himself for not being enough to save his friends life. He couldn't grasp what had just happened, he couldn't believe what his ears were telling his brain…

* * *

Guinevere stared at her husband. The tone of his voice told her that this was no joke. She had been so confident, believed so dearly that Arthur would make the right decision. This was not it. _An EXAMPLE?_ What was Arthur thinking of? He had shown less harsh ideas towards magic than his father had, but this. This was Uther speaking. This was definitely the son of a tyrant king.

* * *

**Author's note: Bring on the reviews.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Authors Note: I honestly cannot believe that I have nigh 130 followers. This is crazy. Thank you all for reading and (hopefully) enjoying the story. You are all amazing. Your reviews are amazing, you dedication to this show and fandom is amazing. Thank you.**

* * *

Down in the dungeon, Merlin sat still, not moving, not thinking, just staring numbly into space.

_I'm going to die._

The guards had left his door, he was completely alone. He seemed to vaguely remember Gwen telling them off and making them leave.

_He sentenced me to burn._

Gwen had come down to see him. She seemed to be full of strength that was masking the sobs that tried to make their way up.

_I am going to be executed._

Gwaine and Gaius had also been down to see him, each assuring him this wouldn't happen, not while they were still alive.

_My best friend wants me dead, as an _example_ to other sorcerers._

All three of them had told him to take any chance to escape.

_That was probably why Gwen sent off the guards. They looked uncomfortable here anyway. _

Merlin had considered the possibility of Arthur sentencing him to death. He had formed a vague idea of what he could do in the face of that challenge, but he had hoped it wouldn't come to it. One thing he knew for sure though.

_I will not run away._

He would not let Arthur win this fight. Arthur had sentenced Merlin to die; Merlin would make sure he saw and understood what his actions brought. He would walk out to the pyre in three days time, and watch Arthur as he slowly burned to death. He would make sure that Arthur watched him as he burnt at the stake for no crime whatsoever.

Merlin had quite forgotten what he saw behind Arthur's eyes; there seemed to be a forgetful kind of magic about them that he couldn't recall as he focused on anything else.

But Merlin had a plan. When Gaius had come, he made sure that much had been conveyed, even if not directly, for fear of an eavesdropper.

* * *

Gaius ran into the dungeons, not caring that the guards were gone and Merlin sat alone in the dungeons. He immediately came to the doors of Merlin's cell and gave him the best hug he could through the bars.

"My boy… my boy…" Gaius repeated several times.

"It's ok, Gaius, I'll be ok," said Merlin.

"No, it's not okay. I'll speak to the King, something needs to be done, this is not okay."

"No, Gaius, I'll be alright, I promise."

"Don't you lie to me anymore," said Gaius, still clutching Merlin as close to himself as possible. "I'll make sure you get out of here. I see the guards aren't here, you could make an escape."

"No," said Merlin forcefully. "Gaius, look at me."

The old blue eyes met the young.

"I. Will. Be. Okay. I promise," Merlin looked intently into Gaius' eyes. He apparently still didn't understand.

"Come three days time, I will go out to the pyre. But I will be fine. I will be okay." Merlin now tried to give him certain looks to emphasize what he was saying.

Comprehension finally showed across Gaius' face.

"Ahh. I see."

"But I can't tell you any more; just know that I'll be alright."

"Of course, my boy," said Gaius sadly. "You are the closest thing I have to a son. It pains me greatly to live through this."

"I understand. I'm so sorry about all this Gaius. But please trust me on this."

Gaius smiled. He knew that he would soon be missed from a sickly patient waiting for him in his chambers.

"Good bye, my boy. I will see you soon."

Merlin smiled as Gaius turned to leave. A thought suddenly came into Merlin's mind.

"Gaius," he called. "Please… don't tell my mother about this. At least not until afterwards. I don't want her to… worry over this."

Gaius filled with sorrow and bitterness as soon as Hunith was mentioned. She would need to be informed eventually.

"Of course."

And with that, Gaius left Merlin's cell, leaving the young warlock to work out the details in his plan.

* * *

**Author's note: I know this is a really short chapter, I will be posting a new one soon! Hope you guys like it!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:**

**Today is the day. Today is the day when the fate of Albion and Merlin and this whole show is finally revealed to us. I know that today is the day for a happy fanfic, but unfortunately, this story is already going. I can't change it. No, no happy warm fuzzy feelings here today. I apologize. **

**I wish you all the best of luck when dealing with tonights episode. **

* * *

During the next three days, Arthur was bombarded with a great variety of emotions. Some of the townspeople were grateful for being kept safe from magic. The knights were angry and volatile, particularly Gwaine.

Gwaine had become suddenly sober for three days, an achievement for him, but his mood was not improved. In fact, it worsened. He had challenged Arthur at least twice a day, lectured him on everything Merlin had done for him, something he already knew. Gwaine made sure his view was heard and made known to anyone. Even the other knights, fighting for Merlin as they were, were getting annoyed with his forcefulness. He told stories about Merlin to anyone who listened, making sure that Merlin was cast as the hero (which he usually was in reality anyway).

The other knights all tried to talk to Arthur about it, trying to figure out how he had come to the decision and what that could mean for the kingdom. Percival brought up the point that other sorcerers could see this not as an example, but as a making of a martyr who would need to be avenged.

Arthur became deaf to their complaints.

Guinevere had become distant to him. She had even taken to sleeping in a different room than him. She refused to join him for dinner. She went about her queenly duties, but did not associate with Arthur when it could be helped. She visited Merlin every day, informing him of the goings on in the Kingdom and how the city was handling the sentence. He always seemed to be preoccupied with something though, listening just enough to acknowledge her presence, but not really hearing what she was saying.

Gwaine came in every night as well, trying to comfort his friend, though, again, Merlin seemed to be thinking of something far off and was distracted.

Meanwhile, Merlin had a perfect view of the pyre being built in the square from the small window of his cell.

* * *

**Author's Note: Yes, I realize that this is an absurdly short chapter. Don't worry, chapter 8.1 is coming tomorrow. **

**Still no happy feelings. **

**Good luck tonight.**


	9. Chapter 8-1

**Authors Note:**

**That episode... I just...**

**wow.**

**I just... wow. **

**I don't know what to say here that will help me from bursting into more tears. And I am very sorry for not a happy chapter. I'll be honest, there's not many from here on out. I'm sorry. **

* * *

Gwaine snuck down to the dungeons the night before the execution. He was determined not to let his first, best, and only real friend die.

As he came up to Merlin's cell, he saw the young warlock lying down on the bed, but not asleep. He was looking up at the ceiling with a concentrated look on his face, as though calculating some impossible answer.

"Merlin," he hissed, causing Merlin to jump.

"Gwaine, what the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm here to bust you out. I promised I wouldn't let you die, and I intend to keep that promise," he answered, taking out a set of clearly stolen keys, jingling them happily. He was obviously pleased with this plan.

"Oh, really?" said Merlin skeptically. "And tomorrow morning when they come, and they find this cell empty, and a set of keys missing, what do you think they're going to say? Who do you think they're going to blame? From what I've heard, you've been the most outspoken one for me, and I don't think Arthur's in too merciful a mood for the time being. What do you think they'll do to you?"

Gwaine couldn't believe his ears. Here was a man facing eminent death in the morning, and he was concerned not for his own life, but his, Gwaine's safety! Merlin's kind heart would literally be the death of him. Gwaine shuddered and pushed that thought out of his mind.

"Look, I don't care what they do to me, mate, I've all but turned in my cape and sword. I won't let you die tomorrow."

"Gwaine, please," Merlin suddenly looked exhausted, like all the stress of his life had finally caught up to him in a span of five seconds. "Just, do me this one last favor: Don't try to help me anymore. I don't want something to happen to you because of me. I don't want Arthur to turn on you or Gwen or Gaius or anyone else because I ran away, or escaped, or whatever. I can't deal with that hanging over my head. The way it is now, only I will have to suffer from this; you won't be punished or harmed. It's best this way."

Gwaine stood, dumbfounded by his friends selflessness. _If only Arthur could see this, could hear this, _he thought_. There is no way someone could confuse this with an evil being._

Still, he took the keys in his hand and started to unlock the cell.

"No, Gwaine," said Merlin forcefully, stepping forward. "Stop. I won't come. I won't leave."

"Yes you will, if I have to drag you out myself."

Merlin looked sadly at his old friend as he still worked with the lock; there were quite a few keys on the ring.

"I'm sorry about this Gwaine," he said.

"About what?"

Merlin raised his hand and murmured a soft incantation. A glazed look came over Gwaine's face. He straightened up, abandoning his battle with the lock, and turned around and went back up the stairs, keys in hand. Merlin made sure, through his magic, that Gwaine made it back to his room and sent a silent sleeping spell his way.

* * *

**Author's Note: Again, I am incredibly sorry to all who watched the episode and had their hearts and souls ripped out. I have decided to ignore almost the entirety of series 5. This fanfic is my new canon. Just because it will make me happier than what actually happened did. Feel free to vent at me or discuss things. Just message me if you need someone to talk to (please note that I am probably just as emotionally unstable as you are, if not more so, so don't expect professional psychiatric help from me, just a shoulder to virtually cry on.)**


	10. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:**

**Hey guys! Sorry for the wait, I was under the impression that I had no wifi where I am, but apparently there is, so here you go! Hope you all are coping relatively well with that finale still; I know I'm still crying. Hope 2012 was a great year for you! **

* * *

The morning of the execution came. Merlin had been watching the progression of the building of the pyre from his small window, checking every morning. Gwen came in with a last weepy sentiment. Gwaine did not, as Merlin's sleeping spell had ensured that he would wake up too late to try another rescue attempt. Gaius had come in the night before, and Merlin had spoken with him. He still didn't give him the details of his plan, but just expressed a need for some supplies, which Gaius delivered early that morning: three bottles of different potions and a dark cloak. He had also asked Gaius to leave a bag of more substantial supplies in the clearing where he usually met the Great Dragon. Gaius had said he did so, and gave Merlin a final hug goodbye. He would write to Hunith tonight.

Finally the guards came down to take Merlin to the cage that would deliver him to the pyre. Merlin allowed them to shackle him, lead him outside, and into the cage. They set off towards the court square and death.

Merlin kept his potions clutched close to him until the pyre itself came into view, when he unstoppered and downed the first and smallest bottle.

He was led out and up to the small stage, where he was the object of spectacle that the sea of faces surrounding him had come to see.

He opened the second bottle and poured the liquid into his mouth, but did not swallow. That would have to be while he was burning. The taste was vile, bringing back memories of tasting many of Gaius' concoctions, but he would have to live with that discomfort. _Rather ironic really_, he mused as they began to tie him to the pole in the center of the stage.

He then looked up at where Uther, and now Arthur, had stood watching the executions of the evil innocent.

"I, Arthur Pendragon, find you guilty of treason, and sorcery."

Merlin was determined to look at Arthur as long as he could. He would not break eye contact.

"You have been sentenced to death. The sentence is to be carried out forthwith."

Arthur turned to leave. _No, _thought Merlin_. No, you clot pole, stay here and watch._

Swallowing enough of the potion to talk and make it not incomprehensible, he shouted, "You're not going to watch, Arthur? You're just going to go cower behind your throne of supremacy? Am I that beneath you, that you don't have to watch your best friend burn to death?"

Arthur slowly turned around, the square deathly silent.

"You dare call yourself my best friend?" he sneered. "You, a sorcerer, a traitor! A servant?! No, Merlin, never. But I will stay and watch, as a last favor."

He looked down upon Merlin with an icy glare full of hatred. Merlin returned the look.

"Light the pyre."

With that, the guard closest to Merlin and the stage lowered a torch. Soon, the flames flew up and rose. They became higher than Merlin's head. Merlin did his best to control his sudden panic as soon as the flames had first started to spread, but all the while he stared at Arthur. Wasn't this why he had never told Arthur? Because this was what he was afraid of? But when the moment came, he knew he wasn't going to die. He knew that a mere fire couldn't kill him.

He began to notice Arthur's face seemed to change. It became softer, the old compassion and sadness began to replace the hatred and betrayal. Was that… remorse on the king's face? Or was it horror? Arthur had seen his fair share of people burned at the stake, but never a friend of his. Never someone as close as Merlin.

Merlin kept up his staring, and, when feeling the intense heat of the fire, realized he still needed to swallow the rest of his potion. As he did, a cooling sensation overcame his body, suddenly becoming completely impervious to the flames. He noticed that his skin appeared to be burning though; all the signs of someone dying from fire were there. He did his best to fake a face of pain, but let out no scream. He writhed while tied to the pole, shriveling in fake agony. Eventually he stopped. Actually, the potion kicked in and slowed his heart. He was all but dead, still conscious, but unable to do anything, to control his body in any way.

The fire died down and the people began to disperse, going about their normal day as usual, as though a young man had not been killed before their very eyes that day, the stench of burning flesh not bothering them.

* * *

"Light the pyre."

Arthur had been vaguely aware of his surroundings the past few days. He had tuned out his knights talking about Merlin; he barely noticed that his room was not shared by anyone. He did not listen to the arguments and cries of Gaius and Gwaine and Guinevere; Gwaine had threatened to renounce his knighthood. He honestly had stopped caring.

But as he watched the flames spread, he saw the panic flash in Merlin's eyes before he had forced his own betrayal to show instead. He watched, and began to realize that that was Merlin, _MER_LIN, there, standing on the stage of the pyre, dying before his very eyes. _What the hell was Merlin doing down there?! _And suddenly the past four days rushed into his memory. Everything he had said, everything Merlin had said, everything that everyone had said to him flooded his memory, and he realized just how wrong he was_. Why the hell did I sentence Merlin to death?! _He honestly couldn't remember what his thoughts had been when making that decision. Assuming he had made that decision.

An idea came to him; he wasn't planning on killing Merlin. Why had he done so? The only explanation he could think of was enchantment. The only sorcerer he knew, though, was burning in front of him, staring him down. Then what…?

Merlin's face had become contorted in pain. He began to writhe and struggle against his bonds, but no sound escaped him. His skin shriveled and blistered. All the while, he just kept staring at Arthur with a burning look, almost into his soul.

Then, suddenly, all movement stopped. Arthur saw as Merlin's deadened eyes stared, unseeing, still at the King. The people began to leave.

King Arthur Pendragon stood there for hours after the square and Merlin's body had been removed, horrified at what he had done.

* * *

**Author's Note: Happy New Year!**


	11. Chapter 10

Merlin had been taken outside the village and was left, exposed, to rot. He had lain there for hours, with the sun setting, before he was finally able to regain control over his body. Immediately, he opened and drank the final potion, and he watched as his skin returned to its normal condition, not burned or charred or melted off.

He set off to the forest, and soon found the tree under which Gaius had hidden his bag of supplies. In it he found a few days worth of clothes, some food and water, and all of Merlin's magical books and objects.

Merlin turned north, towards his home in Ealdor, but stopped short. What was he going to do in Ealdor? Stay with his mother? No, she needed to be just as convinced as everyone else that he was dead. It pained him to think about her grief, but she needed to remain just as unaware of his survival as Arthur and all the world, save Gaius, was. He turned completely around and headed south, realizing that he had absolutely no idea what to do now.

* * *

Gwaine walked up to Arthur at dinner, carrying his red cape. He placed it in front of Arthur and left without a word. The hall remained deathly silent as if a funeral had occurred, not an execution. Arthur had barely touched his plate, having lost his appetite while watching his friend die. How easy it was now to say that Merlin was a friend. Why was it so hard before, when Merlin was alive, when Merlin was just a servant? Not a dead man, killed for no reason.

He looked up and saw that the hall was slowly and quietly filing out. He hadn't even noticed when Guinevere left. He saw that Percival and Leon were quietly talking to one another, and they left together. Curious, he got up himself and went out.

Guinevere met them at the end of the hall, and together all three of them went out to the square. They seemed to take care to not walk through the center of it, where the pyre had been and the scorch marks still showed. As they reached the tavern, Percival went in and dragged out a drunk Gwaine. He seemed to understand what was happening, and followed them out of the city.

Arthur followed them into the forest, as they all remained silent. Finally reaching a small clearing near a stream, they began to gather stones and pile them up. Arthur realized that they were marking Merlin's death, giving any random passersby the knowledge that someone of importance enough for a marker had died, maybe not in that exact spot, but was dead nonetheless.

When there was a sizable pile made up, they stood back and looked at their creation. After a few minutes, still without a word being said, Gwaine picked up his pack of belongings and wandered off into the forest. Guinevere, Leon, and Percival turned back towards Camelot. Arthur remained there until alone, then picked up his own stone from the forest floor and added it atop the pile before returning to his citadel.

* * *

**Author's Note: Here you go, thanks for reading! I'm going to answer a few questions from the reviews now, so that everthing is clear.**

**-So Merlin is alive. If that's not obvious or apparent after this chapter, there. Merlin didn't actually die. **

**-The potions were only to help him survive the fire. The first potion readied Merlin to be burned and also provided that his skin would still blister and make it look like he burned; the second one made him fireproof and allowed him to be able to breathe normally, despite the smoke. It also allowed him to have the appearance of death, as described in the last chapter; the third potion returned him to his normal state and physical appearance. **

**-And finally, the big question:****_ What is Merlin's plan? _****I tried to explain it in this chapter, but I'm not sure if it was clear. Merlin didn't have a plan. Not one that went past surviving the fire, anyway. I feel that this is one of Merlin's character flaws throughout the entire show. He doesn't think everything through. He'll get an idea in his head, focus on that idea, but when it's all said and done, not much happened or changed. It isn't until afterwards, when, in retrospect, he realizes what he could've done, or what he should've done. While he can see into the future sometimes, he doesn't think ahead as well or thoroughly as he should. And in this story, he has finally come to realize that he didn't really think past the fire. Here's a little insight into Merlin's head: he was counting on Arthur to call it off at the last minute. He had forgotten about what he saw behind Arthur's eyes when he was sentenced, and assumed that if his best friend saw him about to actually be burned, he would realize what was going on and stop it. That's why Merlin wanted to make sure Arthur watched. Of course, we all know that Arthur was enchanted, and he is starting to think that too, but Merlin doesn't know. No one else does. All they see is a cruel, cold-hearted king killing a close friend. Merlin's plan didn't go to plan, even though he survived. **

**So those were the main issues brought up in the reviews. Thanks again for reading and reviewing and favoriting and everything! I love hearing what you have to say about this story, it honestly makes me jump up and down with happiness. You guys rock. **


	12. Chapter 11

Hunith had received her weekly letter from Gaius three days early. This fact alone let her know immediately that something was wrong. Merlin was in trouble.

She couldn't believe the words on the page. She had dropped the letter in shock, staggered backwards, searching for a chair, but stumbled upon the floor of her humble hut. Their hut. Hers and Merlin's. But now only hers.

_No…_ was all she could remember thinking. _No. No. No… _

Without quite realizing what she was doing, she began packing a small bag with just enough for her to get to Camelot and back.

* * *

It was two days after Merlin's execution. Arthur was looking over the law concerning magic and its possessors. It was too late to save Merlin, but he could still do something for those in his kingdom who had such a gift. He could make sure that they didn't reach the same fate.

Guinevere sat on her throne, still and resolute. She didn't even give Arthur so much as a glance. The knights were all very cold to him. He hadn't told anyone about his theory of being enchanted, but so desperately wanted them to understand that in his right mind he would not have harmed a hair on Merlin's head.

Suddenly the doors to the council room burst open and a woman stood there, looking crazed and exhausted.

"Where is he?!" Arthur's heart sank even lower than it had been. _Hunith…_

"Where is my son?!" She sounded hysterical.

"Hunith…" Guinevere got up with a look of sorrow and deepest empathy, rushing towards the screaming woman.

"You killed him!" she screamed at Arthur. "You killed him, you sick bastard, you, you… you MONSTER!"

"Hunith, please, this way," said Guinevere gently, her voice cracking, pulling on the grieving mother's arm.

"No, no, he's… he's…" Hunith started sobbing. "He's DEAD!"

And with that, she collapsed upon the floor, sobbing into unconsciousness.

* * *

Hunith woke up in Gaius' chambers. She saw her old friends face and burst into tears again.

"He's… he's… he's really… g- g- gone, is-isn't he?" she asked between sobs.

"I'm so sorry, Hunith."

"He was just a boy!"

"I know. I know…"

"Gaius, please, tell me it's not true!"

Gaius remained silent, to which Hunith's sobs increased in volume and ferocity. He came down and sat on her bed and held her close to him. He had considered telling her of Merlin's plan, even though he did not know much about it himself, but had decided against it. He knew that if Merlin had wanted her to know, he would have gone to Ealdor himself.

"Shh, shhh my child," he started cry himself. "Shh… I'm so sorry. So sorry."

"It's not fair, not fair…"

"I know… I know…"

She eventually fell asleep in Gaius' arms, her tear stained face seemed to forever be contorted in pain.

* * *

**Author's note: Hello again! So apparently some of you have cried in earlier chapters if I am to believe the reviews, and this is honestly the chapter I wrote to make you cry. Sorry (but not really. Yes, I am a bit evil. Love you too). **

**I've gotten a couple requests for longer chapters, and so I'm going to address this now: I have already written nigh 30 chapters, and have no intention of going back to make them longer. I will however, compromise. I will keep my shorter chapters (some of them are horribly short, I'll admit), but I will update more often. Sound like a fair deal? Don't worry, there's quite a bit longer to go with this story. I'm just hoping that you all stick around.**

**Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	13. Chapter 12

Six months had passed from Hunith's outcry in the council room. Arthur had accepted that he must have been enchanted when executing Merlin, but could not find a way to say that to his council without sounding mad. Mordred had returned and mourned with the rest of Camelot. Arthur couldn't think of anything or anyone else bewitching him or having the opportunity to, other than the young knight. He hadn't forgotten that this was the same Druid boy that he, Morgana, and Merlin had rescued all those years ago. However, he kept those thoughts to himself and watched Mordred carefully from then on out. He made sure that Mordred did not have access to the major plans and discoveries made. While there was too much risk in letting a potential traitor too far into the inner circle, he couldn't risk his actions being obvious should he or anyone else become suspicious.

The kingdom seemed to have an invisible, silent blanket placed upon it as word got out that the King had executed his servant. Whispers went round and round in circles, expressing differing opinions on what to think concerning these actions.

Hunith had returned to Ealdor, and had lost the will to live. She soon began to waste away, all but dying.

Guinevere, while understanding her husband's apparent grief, still had not forgiven him. She stayed in her own room, barely spoke to him, and carried out her queenly duties with all professionalism. The Knights, (from the Round Table only Leon and Percival were left) grew distant from the King, still training and working, but having minimal contact with their used-to-be friend.

Arthur worked to change the laws concerning magic. This became his top priority, and devoted little time to anything else. It was a hard transition, considering what had happened to prompt this. The people were still scared of magic and weren't quite ready to trust it after so many years of being taught to fear.

No one had heard from Gwaine, but they could only guess that he had taken up his old ways. Gaius resumed his duties, and refused to even speak or see the king, unless a medical emergency made itself known.

Every month, on the anniversary of Merlin's execution, Arthur would go down to the pile of rocks in the forest, marking Merlin's death. He would pick up and replace any fallen stones, and add a new one in respect.

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**Author's Note: Hey guys! I know the story seems a little slow at the moment, but things will be picking up very soon! I think you'll enjoy the next chapter a lot. This one may seem filler-y, but I wanted to show how Arthur changed after what's happened so far, and this kind of gives a summary of what's happened to Camelot since Merlin's "death." **

**Also, in my 30 some chapters written, I don't really have much on Mordred. Do you want me to include a short chapter in here with him? I've been thinking about it, and I might do it anyway, because I don't think that I've portrayed what I understand to be Mordred's full intentions at all so far. If I do, it would probably be next chapter, putting off what I have written just for a day or so (Mordred's chapter would honestly be really short, so I would post again the next day probably). Thoughts?**


	14. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: So I have decided to leave out the chapter with Mordred FOR THE TIME BEING. It will come, and things will be explained. Mordred's going to have a more important part later in the story again, and that's when I'll talk about his motives. **

**This chapter also marks the end of just the background info chapters. The story will be really picking up from here. **

* * *

Gwaine had indeed gone back to his old ways. He was being kicked out of nearly every tavern in every village and town he went to. He abandoned everything he had been taught about the "knight's code" and chivalry. No one who saw him could see the noble he used to be.

He had been in a small village south of Camelot when he saw what he would describe as a ghost. He was drunk as ever, singing loudly (and badly) a love ballad to the inn keepers daughter, herself drunk and singing along. He happened to look to the back shadowy area of the tavern, and saw a dark figure wearing a black cloak and a familiar smile…

_No, _he thought. _No, it couldn't be…_

But he watched more, still singing loudly, and the smile was definitely unmistakable. He had known that goofy smile for far too long to get it confused, even if drunk.

The smile on the man's face disappeared as he got up to leave. Gwaine panicked. He needed to know, needed to just see his face one more time.

As he left, Gwaine abruptly stopped singing, mostly due to the inn keepers daughter giving him a big kiss full on the mouth.

Pulling away, he apologized. "I'm sorry to miss such a sweet night I'm sure I would spend with you tonight, but there's a damn ghost I need to catch or else I'll kill him for being dead."

The whole tavern laughed at this, including the girl, but she was soon left confused and alone on top of the bar as Gwaine did indeed leave to chase his "ghost."

Gwaine ran out into the street, looking wildly around. He turned just in time to see a dark cloak turn around the corner of the outer wall. He ran towards it, as best as he could when drunk, but he had had good practice maneuvering while intoxicated.

He reached the corner and looked around. All that was there was the forest, dark and foreboding, and the end of the wall. He ran to the end of the wall but saw nothing. He turned back to the forest and was about to run into its depths, but was suddenly pulled back by the inn keepers daughter. She slapped him with a force he would not have thought possible of such a skinny arm.

"What the hell are you on about?! You can't just leave, chasing _ghosts_ of all things for God's sakes!"

Then the tavern keeper came and had his share of yelling about Gwaine needing to pay, then the inn keeper himself came and yelled, and by the time it was all over, Gwaine was hung over, broke, alone, had a bruise across his face, and had lost his friend yet again.

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**Author's Note: Here you go, for everyone who wanted Gwaine's story! More will come, I promise. This isn't the end of him. **

**Please review!**


	15. Chapter 14

Morgana, all the while, had heard of Merlin's execution. Her shock at finding out that Merlin had magic was quickly replaced with betrayal.

_He knew I had magic!_ She was consumed by anger. _He knew, and he had magic, and he didn't tell me anything! He could have helped me! He could have shown me that I was not a monster, he could have talked to me about it, he didn't have to keep secrets, he…_

Her mind swirled in anger and frustration and betrayal. Merlin had betrayed her. Merlin had betrayed his own kind. He knew what she was going through, he knew what it was like. How could he have not done anything?!

_But he had… he told me where to find the Druids. He alone offered me help and an explanation. _She needed to get over this, she needed to move on from these thoughts.

Arthur and Camelot were now vulnerable. Arthur had been quiet these past few months, and Camelot seemed to be in mournful shock. Now was the time to strike, while the wound was still fresh and the people still confused.

She knew what she needed to do. She knew what her tactic should be. An army in Merlin's name would be just the thing to bring down Camelot. She needed to go around the kingdom, finding all the hidden sorcerers who had spent too much of their lives in fear. She knew they would fight for their lives. This execution was the last straw. They wouldn't stand for any more.

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**Author's Note: Yes, yes, I know, another absurdly short chapter, don't yell at me please! I have a surprise for you:**

**TWO CHAPTERS IN ONE DAY. WOOHOO.**

**Yep, the next chapter is up too, so enjoy! that one is considerably longer than this one, and I felt that this needed its own chapter, and would've been awkward attached to some other chapter. **

**So yay, just a little treat for you guys for being amazing and reading this story. **


	16. Chapter 15

Merlin himself had travelled far away from Camelot. He had gone south and tried living in a few villages at first, but when the news of King Arthur of Camelot's servant being executed for magic reached them, as it always did, Merlin would leave. Not from fear of being discovered, but from an unwillingness to listen to such news on repeat.

In one such town, Merlin had almost been caught again. A bounty hunter was in the area, and while he had a specialty for just petty outlaws, he was not afraid to spread out his search. He immediately had his suspicions about Merlin, and stalked him for days on end, even out of the village when Merlin decided it was time to leave. Merlin had started a small fire with magic, as he seemed to have lost his flint, and immediately regretted that decision.

The bounty hunter then sprang into action, ambushed Merlin, and almost had him tied down and shackled, when, with a flash of gold and quick burst of magic, Merlin shot him back against a tree. He wasn't dead, but would wake soon with a throbbing concussion. Never had Merlin ran away as fast as he did after that.

Eventually he found a cave to live in, but soon had to leave due to a fire that had consumed the forest around him and made the cave a smoke storage. It turned out to be that other bounty hunters had heard of a profitable prospect hiding there, and had decided to smoke him out, as they would with a rabbit or fox. When he ran out, they did their best to incapacitate him. Again, Merlin was able to ward them off for just enough time to get away with his life and few belongings, but he was beginning to realize just how there was nowhere he could be safe.

He needed somewhere to live where he would be undisturbed, where no one could possibly recognize him or notice him. He had had a close encounter with someone who could only be Gwaine a few weeks back in a tavern. He guessed that Gwaine had either given up his title or had been kicked out of the Round Table by Arthur. Either seemed likely. These bounty hunters were relentless, and the longer he stayed in the open, the more of them would be after him.

He racked his brains for somewhere to possibly go. He thought back to all the places he and Arthur had been, where he could be alone.

_The Perilous Lands._

They seemed so perfect, so isolated. There was no one there to bother him, only the Wyverns, and he could control them. They were close enough to dragons that he could command them and keep them friendly.

* * *

The first week after the Day, Merlin had called upon Kilgarrah to come and give his own piece of advice. The dragon had been as cryptic as ever, but his sympathy was genuine.

"I am sorry for your loss, young warlock, but all is for the good. You have a destiny that must be fulfilled."

"But how can I fulfill it when I'm dead?"

"Ahh, but you're not dead, are you? Or are we both deceased?"

"You could try to give a straight answer for once in your life."

"What good would that do? And how fun would it be for me to watch you just take the answer and go your own way? No, Merlin, you must figure out how to fulfill your destiny by yourself. I cannot give you guidance in that respect."

Exasperated, Merlin let the dragon leave, feeling more confused and lost than before.

* * *

Merlin reached the bridge to the Perilous Lands. The same bridge keeper stood there again, looking not a day older than when they had last encountered each other.

"Hello, I see that Magic has arrived. Alone this time."

"Yes, I'm alone. I ask for passage into the Perilous Lands."

"And why do you seek that?"

"For protection and isolation. It is no longer safe out here for me, and I must remain hidden."

"Strength and Courage need to join you again. Along with Fairness, Loyalty, and Bravery."

"They… kind of think I'm dead at the moment. It needs to stay that way for some time." He could only guess as to whom Fairness, Loyalty, and Bravery were.

"They will come for you. They will always come for you. You may pass, but know that when they come, I will let them pass too."

"Thank you."

And Merlin passed into the Perilous Haven, where he would not be hunted.


	17. Chapter 16

Morgana's army was growing. She had gathered a militia of sorcerers just as tired of hiding as she was. She knew Camelot's time was coming.

Many of these sorcerers had not had much training, or if they did, it had been decades since they last dared to practice. She trained them to the best of her abilities, showing the younger ones how to capture and control their power, while teaching the older ones how to refine their techniques and spells.

She had scoured Camelot and many of the other kingdoms, looking for these people. There were a few who had heard of Emyrs, and were still holding onto their hope that he would come and bring back magic. There were some who simply didn't trust Morgana and her true motives, and opted to stay out. Then there were some whom she had mistaken to have magic. When affronted, and they proved to have no loyalty to her or possession of magical power, they became of no use to her. They became of no use to anyone else.

She looked at the 153 sorcerers she had gathered, and knew that a broken Camelot was no match for them, once they trained up, of course. They all had their specific instructions. Some were to fight on the front lines, as they had the strongest magical potential. Others were more adept to healing, and were to be kept to the back and trained in medical magic. Some had little power and were weak, which she kept in the middle, to fight the weakened knights that may have gotten past the front.

_Just a few more months…_ she thought_. Just a few more…_

One of her first recruits had gone missing. She guessed he had run away, but the next time she saw him would be the last. No more traitors. No more treacherous followers who just stab her in the back after she put her complete trust in them. No more trust.

For everyone she had gathered, one factor, besides magic, had brought them together. _Merlin._ They had all heard the news of his execution and the reason behind it. They all had had hopes that Arthur would not be Uther, and that one day soon they would walk free and without fear. But those hopes were completely destroyed as Merlin burned; if the King's friend, someone as close as a personal servant, wasn't safe, then none of them were.

They were here to fight for their freedom. They were here to fight for their lives. They were here to fight for their children, for every fallen and broken friend of theirs who had been killed at a Pendragon's hand. For every soul lost and unmarked grave in the Great Purge and every raid on a Druid camp.

They were here to fight for magic.

* * *

**Author's Note: So I'm just going to clarify something here: ****_*SPOILER ALERT*_**

_***SERIOUSLY, SEASON FIVE SPOILERS, DO NOT KEEP READING IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW.***_

**So I mentioned in the description of this story that I acknowledge the death of a knight in 5x06. So yeah, Sir Elyan is not in this story. Looking back, I wish I had included him, and just not even have bothered with putting anything from season five in here, like his death, because in my mind, I've just tried to erase this entire season from existence. I started this back when I had faith in the writers of the show to give a good ending and resolution, but I was proved oh so wrong, so I've just been ignoring it. Too late now, I'm sorry.**

**Please review!**


	18. Chapter 17

"Sire."

Arthur looked up from the law he was looking over again. He still couldn't figure out how to change it effectively and still make the people happy.

"Sire, there's a man here to see you. He says he has important news on Morgana."

Nodding, Arthur sent the guard away. He set down the law and went down to the throne room. There was a small group of people there already. Guinevere, Leon, Percival, Mordred, a handful of guards, and a small, watery eyed man who looked about as terrified as rabbit when being hunted were there.

He addressed the terrified man, "I was told you have news on Morgana?"

"Yes, my Lord, but, I am afraid… no, I must tell you. But I can't, she'll kill me…" he seemed to be talking more to himself than the King.

"I promise that I will put you under my protection. No harm shall come to you. What news do you have on Morgana?"

"I just came back from her camp, Your Majesty, where she has assembled… well…" he still looked around nervously.

"It's alright, we won't hurt you, and we will make certain that Morgana doesn't either," Arthur promised.

"Thank you, my Lord, but still, it feels as though she is always watching…"

A chill set in upon the people in the room. Yes, it did feel as though someone was always watching, especially since Merlin's execution.

"There's no one here but us, I assure you. What has Morgana assembled?"

"An… an army, Sire. An army of sorcerers. In the name of Merlin."

A silence hung in the air. Any normal army Camelot would be able to defeat with ease, but an army of sorcerers…

"What do you mean, 'in the name of Merlin?'"

"Since his death, my Lord, well, those of us with magic-" He immediately froze, terrified.

"You have magic."

"Y-, yes, m-m- my Lord," he stuttered, staring at the ground. He began visibly shaking with fear. "Though my power is not great and I have had very little practice."

The rest of the room took uneasy glances at Arthur, unsure of how he would react. The king just looked curiously at the man for a couple seconds before deciding it was time to continue.

"Carry on," ordered Arthur. When the man remained silent, looking confused, he said "with your news, carry on. What do you mean by 'in the name of Merlin?'"

The man started uneasily. "Well, since his death, those of us," (he flinched) "with magic have felt… a sense of hopelessness. It was no secret to the kingdom really how close you were to your servant, but when even he could not escape death…" he trailed off, the rest not needing to be said.

Arthur sat back on his throne and thought about what this man was saying. An army of sorcerers, angry and afraid for far too long, were planning an attack on Camelot, led by his crazy half sister, Morgana. Now, more than ever, he wished he still had Merlin by his side, magic or not, for advice.

"Why have you come to tell me this?" asked Arthur.

"Because, my Lord, I do not agree with Morgana and her motives. I believe that while she says she is working in Merlin's memory, she truly is working for revenge. She wants Camelot for herself, and will rule with a tyrants rule. While she would supposedly grant my freedom, you would grant the safety and peace of your people. She has no such sights for the future, even for those who share her powers. I believe that Emrys will come and help you to unite Albion and make this kingdom truly great."

Arthur looked a bit shocked at such heartfelt honesty. "Thank you for your insight. I will consider it greatly. You can go to the inn and stay there and be safe."

He could feel Guinevere looking at him, but he refused to turn to meet her concerns. He knew that she suspected he was playing at some other game. Honestly, he did want this man to feel safe in his city.

"Thank you, my Lord," he still looked scared as he turned to leave.

"And make sure to not mention that you have magic. The people of this kingdom still fear those with it."

The man turned and faced Arthur, a sad smile twisting on his lips. "Sire, I believe that we have been given more reason to fear people like you, than you do us."


	19. Chapter 18

Arthur immediately held a meeting of the council to discuss what had just happened. Camelot needed to be ready for any attack, but the resources needed, the man power, the strength to hold against any mass number of sorcerers was missing. There was no way that they could stand for long against such an army, whether they were trained sorcerers or not. The fact that they had magic, and the knights of Camelot didn't, was enough to send fear into the hearts of the bravest knights.

"What can we do?" was the question most posed. There seemed to be no good answer.

The King had remained silent for some time, contemplating the weight of his few choices. The only way he could possibly think of to defeat such an army was with magic itself, but there was no one he knew of who could help him.

_I believe that Emrys will come and help you to unite Albion and make this kingdom truly great… _the words echoed through Arthur's brain.

"Emrys," he said. The rest of the table grew silent and looked at him. "The man had mentioned Emrys, and how he could help us."

"And where do you think we'll find this Emrys?" asked Leon, skeptical of the Kings plan.

"We have made peace with the Druids. We can seek them out and try to find our answers," said the King.

The rest of the council looked doubtful.

"Do you not think, Sire," Leon started tentatively, "That the Druids would perhaps consider the peace between us broken? After what has happened?"

Arthur looked up in surprise, and Leon was worried for a moment if the king was going to hit him.

The moment passed however. "They might believe so," said Arthur, having not really thought about that idea before. "But I have not waged war against them. I have not shown them any hostility. It would be a peaceful meeting. We may even have to leave our weapons behind to prove that we will not harm them."

This thought made them all uncomfortable. While they had no intention of harming anyone, there was always some kind of threat awaiting them in the forest when they went out.

"We could just send out a couple of knights, Sire," suggested Percival. "Not a large party to overwhelm them, and frankly… if they saw you heading a party their way, they may panic and assume the worst."

Arthur stared hard at Percival, not missing the implication. Even the people closest to him considered him now to be a cold hearted man, one to be feared and avoided. But, admittedly, he did have a point.

"Alright. Leon, Percival, would you be willing to go seek them out?" Arthur asked. "I need answers, and they are the only people who I can think of that can point us in the right direction."

Both Percival and Leon nodded their consent, looking rather relieved that they were going alone.

"We will leave at first light," assured Leon.

"Good. Report back everything you find out," instructed Arthur.

"Of course, Sire."

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**Author's Note: Oh my gosh, there are 230 people following this, and I don't even know what to do with you all (Update often, I suppose, I bet you'd all like that)! Ahhh!**

**Thank you for your amazing reviews and following this story! It means so much to me! You're all amazing!**

**Please, if you haven't already, vote for Merlin and Colin Morgan at the NTA website! Time is running out, and our show deserves to be recognized! **

**Please review! **


	20. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: I'M SO PROUD OF YOU GUYS AND THIS SHOW!**

**I'm just incredibly happy that Colin Morgan won a NTA, he most definitely deserved it! A little sad that Downton Abby beat us, but oh well. Colin got the recognition he deserves. **

**So in honor of his victory, I present to you: A NEW CHAPTER! And a long chapter, to those of you who have been bugging me about long chapters. Here you go. But this means that I won't update for a bit longer now. Just FYI.**

* * *

Leon's and Percival's journey to the Druid camp was uneventful. They brought their swords, but both had the mind to leave them outside the camp when it was found. By mid-afternoon, they discovered what they were looking for, as the sounds of children's laughter and the murmur of babble rose above the noises of the forest. Taking off their swords and removing any further weapons, they left their horses and belongings tied to a couple of trees, just outside of where the camp was located.

As they walked into the camp, they suddenly felt very out of place. All talking and activity would cease as they passed through, earning the stares of every Druid there. They suddenly didn't know who they were going to talk to, but that quickly was fixed as a tall, thin man approached them. They could tell this man was well respected by the people who lived here as they moved out of his way and bowed their heads ever so slightly.

Leon moved ahead to approach him, "Are you the leader of this camp?"

The tall man looked back at him with a serene yet piercing expression on his face. "Yes, I am. My name is Tyrdoc. What business do you have here?"

"We come on an official request by the King of Camelot," explained Percival. "We are looking for someone."

The man studied them both for a few more seconds. "You are searching for the warlock Emrys."

The knights stood, shocked.

"Well… yes…" admitted Leon. "How did you…?"

"Your mind is like an open book, good sir knight," Trydoc said. "One just needs to know how to read it."

Leon definitely did not feel comfortable with the thought of having someone inside his head, and was going to argue when Percival nudged him. Mentally steeling himself, he remembered that he was here for a mission, there was no need for him to get caught up in this issue.

"Do you know Emrys?" he asked instead.

"I have not had the honor to meet him personally, no," the Druid said wistfully. "But let us not talk out here. Come," he gestured towards a large tent. The knights followed him in, and settled themselves on the floor, waiting for him to continue.

"Emrys is a great man, and an even greater warlock," Tyrdoc started. "His destiny is far greater than you could ever know, greater even than that of your King. He is destined to help guide and rule with your King to unite Albion and create a world where those with and without magic can live together peacefully."

"Do you know where we can find him?" asked Percival.

The man ignored his question. "Arthur Pendragon has not shown a promising start to fulfilling his destiny. Emrys must be at his side for such a prophesy to be fulfilled. We here have learned what he has done to his manservant, charged with the crime of being born a sorcerer. Our people have grown worried. After our treaty with the young king, we expected that more of our kind would be tolerated, rather than persecuted as one under Uther's rule."

Leon and Percival exchanged nervous glances; they had tried to prepare for this reaction, but were still unsure on how to approach it.

"Our King has not had a bloodless reign so far," admitted Leon. "But we are hoping that can change. We need the help of Emrys if we are to continue as a kingdom."

Tyrdoc looked expectant for an explanation.

"Morgana has gathered an army of sorcerers," explained Percival. "We do not have the power or strength to fight them and win. Emrys is our only hope of victory."

"After all that the man has been through," said Tyrdoc slowly, as if trying to figure out how to phrase what he wanted to say. "After all he has been through, it would be hard to persuade him to return to your aid. Yes, return," he said to their confused expressions. "You would not be here today if it were not for Emrys. Yet, it grows increasingly difficult for one to help and protect when they are always persecuted."

"The King regrets his actions," assured Percival. "He wishes to make peace with magic in the kingdom. He has been going over the laws concerning magic for the past several months, trying to figure out how to best revise them."

"Be that as it may," Tyrdoc looked hard at him. "Emrys has been wronged and hurt at the hands of your kingdom. As have many of his kind. If you do find him, do not expect him to make the decision to help lightly. He will not immediately wish to help you."

"We understand," said Leon. "Please, do you know where we can find him?"

"No."

"No?" questioned Percival, clearly annoyed at being played with. "What do you mean 'No?'"

"I mean that I do not know at the moment where to find Emrys," explained Tyrdoc patiently. "But I do know of a way to find him."

Relief flooded over the knights. Their search had not been in vain.

Tyrdoc got up and left the tent for a couple of minutes, returning with a bowl of water, some herbs that neither knight recognized, and a small felt bag that was full of some bulky objects that they couldn't see.

Tyrdoc set the bowl down and opened the bag, carefully spilling a number of what seemed to be dry, old bones into the water. He then took the herbs and placed them in a perfect circle surrounding the bowl. He muttered an incoherent word, and the herbs began to smoke and smolder. He placed his hands into the bowl and began chanting out a spell of the Old Religion. Leon and Percival watched, fascinated and nervous at the proceedings.

Tyrdoc's eyes glowed golden for a moment, and suddenly all the water in the bowl was gone, along with most of the bones. The few that remained Tyrdoc pulled out and, after removing the bowl, threw them upon the floor within the circle of herbs. After muttering a couple more spells, the herbs burst into flames, creating a fire, tall and hot, hotter than some herbs should burn on their own. They could hear the bones cracking in the heat and suddenly the flames were gone. There was ash where the herbs had been just seconds ago, and the bones were mangled in cracks and crevices caused by the heat of the flames.

Tyrdoc leaned forward and studied them, frowning in concentration. It had been many years since he had resorted to such magic, but knowing how much the world needed Emrys to come back, he consented to the crude craft.*

After a few minutes of deciphering what was written in the bones, Tyrdoc looked up at the knights expectant faces.

"Emrys can be found far from these lands. Indeed, far from any other inhabited land. He is residing in the kingdom of the Fisher King, an area you know as-"

"The Perilous Lands," finished Leon. Worry was etched into his face. He knew Arthur had once travelled there alone, but never had he ever dared to think of going himself.

"Thank you, very much, for your time and help," Percival said. The knights stood up, getting ready to leave. It was almost nightfall and they didn't wish to be caught in the woods at the moment. This point was brought up by Tyrdoc.

"Dusk is upon us, and the citadel is most of a day's ride away. Why not stay the night? You will be safe and treated as guests."

Leon and Percival looked at each other, and decided that that was probably the best idea. They would leave at first light.

"Thank you, again, for your extended hospitality," said Leon. "We owe you a debt."

"The only payment I will accept is the freedom of those like us," answered Tyrdoc, knowing full well that they were not the ones with the power to grant this.

The knights spent the night in the same large tent where the ceremony had taken place. They left for Camelot at dawn, with the knowledge that not all hope for their beloved kingdom was lost.

* * *

***This ritual is completely made up. Whatever resemblance it holds to actual witchcraft or any other kind of ritual, if any, is entirely coincidental. I just know that bones are sometimes used in fortune-telling or something sometimes. **

**Again, congrats to Colin Morgan, and thank you everyone who voted! **


	21. Chapter 20

"The Perilous Lands?" asked Arthur incredulously. "_The Perilous Lands?"_

"Yes, Sire," said Leon. "That is what the leader of the Druids said."

They had returned in the early afternoon and given a fully detailed report on what had happened. Only Guinevere was in the council room with them. Mordred was absent, having been sent on some useless errand by Arthur to avoid any possible future complications.

Arthur ran his hand through his hair. _Why would anyone live in the Perilous Lands?_ He could think of no answer. He thought back to his quest there, where he, Merlin, and Gwaine had recovered the trident of the Fisher King. Then he thought of Merlin, being trapped in that throne room, alone, for a long while. _What had happened in there? _Merlin seemed to be rather quiet after that experience. Had something happened to him in there? Something magical?

The King pushed these thoughts out of his mind. That was behind them now. He would never discover what Merlin did in that room before they were able to get the door open. There were more pressing matters at hand.

_Emrys._

Morgana had mentioned that name before. What were her words? _Not even Emrys can save you now._

That had been years ago. After Arthur had pulled out his sword from the stone. It was a distant memory, as was most of his time spent with Merlin. It didn't feel as though he had been without his friend for six months. It _did, _however, feel like he'd been stuck with George for years. He gave the man as many possible and obscure jobs as he could think to give, so as to be rid of him throughout most of the day. _God, I wish I didn't have to deal with George every day. _

_No. _He pushed the thoughts of Merlin and George and their services from his mind again. He was having trouble concentrating.

_Emrys. The Perilous Lands._

"We leave tomorrow," he announced.

The group shifted nervously. They had heard of the Perilous Lands and the stories surrounding it.

"I've been there before, I promise you," said Arthur reassuringly. "I promise you that we will return from there, hopefully with the man who will save us."

The knights did not look more at ease. They knew that Arthur had gone there on his Quest so many years ago, but that did nothing to placate their concerns. Not wanting to sound cowardly, however, they bowed in turn and went to leave.

"I am coming too," came an unexpected voice from Arthur's side.

He turned to face his Queen, confusion and disbelief on his face.

"What? No, Guinevere, I will not allow it," he said. "It's too dangerous."

"I have a duty to this kingdom as much as you do," she snapped back. "I will accompany you and Percival and Leon. While you may be King, you are still not very good at convincing sorcerers to fight for you. And I don't have a problem seeing why."

Arthur stared in disbelief as she stood up and walked out the door without so much as a second glance. The knights, who hadn't yet left, shifted uncomfortably at the atmosphere in the air.

Arthur sighed dejectedly. He made up his mind to get going sooner rather than later. "Ready the horses. We leave as soon as possible."


	22. Chapter 21

**Author's Note: Sorry for the bit of a wait, guys. I've been super busy with homework and stuff. **

_***This is actually a rather important author's note so please read it***_

**I'm catching up to everything I have written. I don't want to catch up, because I like posting frequently, and during the week I have absolutely no time to write chapters for this. So, to buy myself some more time, the waits in between chapters is going to increase a bit. I'm sorry.**

**Another thing is that the last couple chapters I have written, I'm not happy with. And I don't think you'll be happy with them either, so I want to rewrite them. And that's going to take time, because it's a very important part of the story. I won't say anymore, due to spoilers, but please know that I am trying my best to give you a great story that you won't yell at me for during important parts.**

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Merlin woke up blissfully to a quiet morning. It was the first time in months where his first thoughts were not about escaping capture or worry over his hiding place. He was safe here, in these abandoned walls. There was a sense of old magic here, the kind of pure magic that was rare for any sorcerer to feel nowadays. The wyverns proved not to be much trouble; as soon as he came up to the castle he immediately called out to them, demanding their peace and protection, and they complied to his power.

He got up and stretched leisurely. For once in his life, Merlin could actually be himself. He was free.

_It's a nice feeling, _he thought_. Perhaps there will come a day when I can walk outside of this place and feel the same way._

_But no, _a dark thought crowded in._ That cannot happen. Not now. And it will probably never happen at this rate. _

He shook his mind clear of those ideas. This was a time to revel in himself. To be who he is without fear. There was not much to do in the Fisher King's ruined castle, but there was enough to occupy him for some time. He would enjoy what he could without thinking about Arthur or his own supposed death or the bounty hunters or his destiny. Now was a time to be free.

Merlin honestly had no idea what to do with that thought. _What is it to be free? To not know fear?_

He had never really thought about what it would be like to just be himself, even if there was no one around to understand. His whole life he had spent in fear. His whole life he had lived an outward lie, and he could not comprehend what it should feel like to let the truth overtake him. He had magic. He _was_ magic. It couldn't have all been a lie, could it?

Merlin turned to a pile of rubble in the room. He knew that if this were Camelot, and that pile of stones a pile of clothes, Arthur would make him wash it. Or in this case, fix it. So he rose his hand and with a murmur, the stones and mortar heaved themselves back upon each other until restored to the wall, leaving it looking as though no harm had come to it.

The magic that Merlin had felt around the castle began to hum with excitement. It had been dormant for centuries, having no purpose but to preserve a dead kingdom. Now it sensed the presence of one who could use it, capture it, restore the kingdom and power to its former glory.

But that was not Merlin's job. That was not his destiny, nor what he came here to do. He fixed the rest of the room he was staying in, noting that parts of the missing ceiling seemed to be irreplaceable, and decided that this was as good a room as any in the desecrated castle to stay in. He might as well try to fool himself that he was staying in luxury.

He then set off around the castle, not having had time to really explore the last time he had been here. He went first to the throne room, remembering his old quest and what had transpired there. He thought back to the King's sad story and how all he had wanted was death to his preserved life. Merlin didn't think he would enjoy immortality himself; there would be too much pain and sadness involved in such a life.*

He continued in a self guided tour of the castle, mentally taking note of every corridor and room he came across. He knew in the back of his mind that the gatekeeper was correct; people would come for him. Arthur and Gwaine apparently, and those he could only guess to be Gwen and the knights of the Table. Arthur would somehow hear about Emrys, and come in search for him. Why, he couldn't fathom, but he knew that eventually that would be the reason he is to be sought out.

_Did I tell him about Emrys? _He wondered_. Did I get to that in the story? _Thinking back, it occurred to him he hadn't. While on the battlefield, Merlin spilled everything of importance; everything that he knew Arthur needed to know immediately. The name Emrys and his destiny was not very high on the list when he was talking. He was mainly concerned with making sure that Arthur saw the good he had done rather than the bad. He wanted Arthur to know that he did what he did because of their friendship, not destiny. _I guess that didn't work…_

***I wrote this soon after watching the finale, and if you get a bit of a bitter tone there, good. Because I am bitter about that ending.**

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**Author's Note: Please do not keep asking me to make the chapters longer. I have addressed this in the past author's notes, and I'm not going to change them. Sorry. **

**Also, I want it to be clear that I am not just putting off the inevitable. All of my chapters, no matter how short or long or seemingly useless, are important to the story. At least ****_I_**** regard them as important to the story. This one may have seemed like a filler, but I wanted you to know what Merlin's up to and just a bit more insight into his character. **

**Thank you guys!**


	23. Chapter 22

Arthur, Guinevere, Leon, and Percival all set out towards the Perilous Lands an hour after the knights' return. It would be a three day trek out there, and who knew how long it would take to convince this Emrys to help them.

Guinevere had traded her royal dresses for pants and a tunic, elaborate in nature to show her standing. The knights and King remained in their court garb of chainmail and red capes bearing the Pendragon crest. They rode out far to the south of Camelot, pausing only to water the horses. No conversation broke the steady silence of the horses' hooves beating the path on their way.

As dusk began to fall, they came across a small town. There was not much there, just some farms, a small market, and an inn. They stopped, and still unspeaking, headed to the inn in mutual agreement for rest.

The next morning, they set out again, leaving even before first light. They were nervous to reach the Perilous Lands before Morgana had a chance to strike. There was no telling when she would be ready, but they didn't want to be caught unawares.

They rode hard that day, hardly stopping and snacking on food while moving. For the most part of the day, they ran into no one, passed no other living soul on the path. In the late afternoon as they began to think about setting up camp, they came across someone lying, dead asleep, on the side of the road. The snores were unmistakable, and soon the long locks of dark hair confirmed their suspicions.

"Gwaine!" called Percival, dismounting his horse as the rest of the party slowed down.

The man on the ground barely moved in response, but with Percival's sudden prodding and shaking, woke with a start, reaching for his sword. He sat up looking wildly around, and soon recognition showed across his face. Immediately he scowled, his face grew cold and hostile, and a glare they had never dreamed Gwaine capable of pierced through Arthur.

"What the hell do you lot want?" he growled. "Can't a man get some peace and quiet around here?"

"We weren't looking for you," said Arthur, taken aback by Gwaine's glare. "We are passing through."

"Don't you talk to me," whispered Gwaine with a deadly look on his face. "Don't you dare talk to me as if I am a lesser subject of yours. In case you haven't noticed, Princess, we're not in Camelot. You hold no authority here."

The contempt and menace in Gwaine's voice caused even Percival to recoil. The ex-knight refused to back down from his glare and position, taking no notice of the others' reactions to his words. Arthur stared back, plain shock written across his face at being so addressed. Quickly he composed himself the best he could and tried to respond.

"I am not requiring your allegiance," he said, putting on a practiced air of authority and confidence. "But I am still a King. You will not address me in that manner."

"You are not my King," said Gwaine. "And never again shall you be. I am ashamed to have fought for you."

The silence that fell over the group was thick. Percival and Leon stood frozen, waiting for either old friend of theirs to respond to the other. Guinevere looked between the two men, deciding she had had enough.

"Stop being so foolish," she reprimanded, stepping between them. "Both of you! You are behaving like children, and there are pressing matters at hand. We must reach the Perilous Lands as soon as possible."

Both men looked at her in surprise. They had forgotten about the group around them, and the Queen's outburst snapped them out of their argument.

Gwaine looked up at them again, this time curiosity was apparent under the distrust. "The Perilous Lands?" he asked. "Why the hell are you going back there?"

"For reasons that don't concern you," seethed Arthur, unwilling to give up his fight.

"Wait," said Guinevere, looking at Gwaine. "Wait, he could probably help us, Arthur."

Arthur looked up. He was unwilling to admit it, but his wife had a point. Gwaine had gone with him last time to the Lands, and he was a skilled and fierce fighter. They could use him on their side again. Pride stood in his way in accepting that.

"What are you talking about, Guinevere?" he asked, trying to sound exasperated. "And I doubt he would even want to join us."

"I'm still here," growled Gwaine. "And help you with what? Why are you headed to the Fisher King's Lands?"

Before Arthur could retort back a protest, Guinevere cut across. "We are looking for a sorcerer named Emrys. We need his help."

A shadow passed over Gwaine's face. "Why, so you can kill him too?"

The frustration and rage that had been boiling under Arthur's composure burst forth.

"HOW DARE YOU!" he bellowed, grabbing his sword and lunging at Gwaine in a blind rage, "HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT!"

"Why, what are going to do to me? Kill me?!" roared Gwaine back. "Go ahead, I don't care! I'll let you!" He grabbed for his own sword and sprang up from the ground.

"Stop!" cried Guinevere as Percival and Leon rushed forward to restrain the two men. "Stop this! This petty arguing will get us nowhere! It is almost dark and we must set up camp."

Arthur and Gwaine struggled against the arms of the other knights, staring lividly at each other. After some time they relaxed, but did not stop glaring. Guinevere, Leon, and Percival waited patiently for them to calm down further, but when it was apparent that this was the best it was going to get, they turned away from the pair, going slightly off the road to set up camp. Eventually the other two joined them, but under no means had they forgiven the other.

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**Author's Note: Guys, I really love all your reviews. They honestly make me really happy when I read them. Thank you so much! **

**Sorry again for the wait, but this is probably going to be a bit closer to how often I'll update now. I was able to fix the chapters I was unhappy with, but that does not mean that I'm close to done with the story or still as far ahead as I'd like to be. So yeah, sorry that I'm buying myself some more time, but I do like staying on somewhat of a schedule. I think you'll be happy with what I've done come chapter 29 or so. Shhh *spoilers!* **

**Again, thank you guys for reading/commenting. Please, if you have anything you want to say, just leave a review. **


	24. Chapter 23

**Author's Note: Quick update this time, mostly due to the fact that I will not have internet access for most of this coming weekend. It's a short chapter anyway. Next update will probably be Monday or Tuesday.**

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Morgana was almost ready to strike. She could feel the anxiety of her army as they prepared for the war. She could barely contain her own nerves. _This is it, _she thought_. This is the moment that Camelot will fall. _

She went out of her tent, looking around at the success and progress they had made already. The sorcerers she had gathered were quickly growing in strength and power. Any week now, soon they would march on Camelot. Soon her brother would fall at her hand. Soon she would take the throne she knew was rightfully hers.

Her recruit that had run had not yet returned. She didn't expect him to, but she still dealt with him. She had sent two of her stealthiest spies to Camelot in search of him. They returned two days later and reported on his death.

She was done dealing with betrayal. She was done dealing with lies. She was done dealing with backstabbing and treacherous people surrounding her. There was no room for mercy. There was no room for tolerance. Enough was enough.

Morgana sighed tiredly. Yes, she was consumed by hate, but she refused to admit it to herself. Uther was consumed by hate. Arthur was consumed by hate. She was different. She had a cause and purpose in life. She fought for her right to live and be free. They all did.

She turned her mind to what damage the traitor could have caused. He would have gone to Arthur. He would have told of her army. _It may be better that way_, she mused_. He knew he was defeated before the battle even started. _

Still, the thought of him knowing made her uneasy. There was not much he could do in the face of a threat like hers, but she knew her brother. He would stop at nothing to ensure the safety of his people. He would go to any means necessary to protect them and his precious kingdom.

What could that entail? What means did her brother find necessary to win the war? Surely he wouldn't resort to sorcery himself. But he may have gone to Emrys…

_That hypocrite! That monster of a man! How dare Arthur use magic to win, when he would most likely kill his savior anyway?! _She now had no doubt that Arthur would indeed resort to such means. Another thought came across her mind. _How dare Emrys! He is a traitor to his kind, protecting a man that would have him and so many of his kind dead! _Her anger at the pair of them riled her into a frenzy, and she let out a burst of magic in a screech of release.

Five full grown trees in the forest fell around her, crashing to the ground with a thunderous BOOM. Several people passing her looked at her in apprehension, nervous to be near such a formidable woman.

Taking no notice of their glances, she strode out to observe the training. Her healers were now able to patch up cuts and gashes in a matter of seconds; her fighters could take out ten knights at a time; even those with small magical abilities were able to hold their own against three or four men.

They were going to win.

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**Author's Note: Yes, I'm sorry! I killed the dude! I liked him too, but with the protection of the Camelot guards, he didn't really stand a chance. Those redcapes, you know? (don't mind my attempted Star Trek reference there if it didn't work, just ignore it). **

**Don't worry, the chapters that you're all waiting for are coming! Patience! It's not long now, I promise! **


	25. Chapter 24

Arthur and Gwaine sat on opposite sides of the fire, refusing to acknowledge the other's presence. Guinevere and the knights had given up on trying to make them see sense. A silence settled over them, and the three who observed were too frightened to break it.

Finally Arthur spoke up, trying to be the adult. "I am sorry for yelling at you."

Gwaine looked up. "Apology not accepted."

It was Arthur's turn to look back at the other man, aggravated. "What do you mean 'not accepted?'"

"I mean," said Gwaine patronizingly, "that I do not accept your apology, nor will I until you right the wrong you have done to an innocent man."

Arthur struggled to contain his anger. "What do you mean?" He asked, his voice shaking slightly, already knowing the answer.

"Merlin."

Anger and rage passed over Arthur's face at hearing his old friend's name. Rage and something else that Gwaine couldn't put a finger on. _Was it shame?_

"I have since," said Arthur slowly, trying not to let his emotions show through, "been trying to change the laws concerning magic, and those who practice it. I am willing to accept those with it, and wish for all my subjects to be free."

Arthur's rage and anger were mirrored back at him on Gwaine's face. "Well it's too late for that," he spat. "My friend is dead, because you changed your mind too late."

Arthur narrowed his eyes, "you don't think he was my friend too? I cared for him, he was closer to me than anyone."

"Oh, really," said Gwaine, in a dangerously quiet voice. "I suppose that's why you killed him. Couldn't take anyone being closer than a subject? Watch out My Lady, he'll come after you next."

"You have no idea," said Arthur, his voice rising in response to Gwaine's threat to Guinevere. "You have no idea what I've gone through. I have lost a friend, a servant, and a loyal citizen of my kingdom. You have no idea what it's like—"

"Oh yes I do, sweetheart," said Gwaine, his voice rising. "Oh yes I do. And don't you dare tell me I don't know what it's like to go through your losses. I've lost my best friend, my first real friend. I would never have found my way if it wasn't for that man, I would never have even considered becoming a knight for your damned royal court if it wasn't for him, and don't you dare say I don't know what it's like. If you feel so cheated, you shouldn't have killed him."

Arthur wanted to tell him about his suspicions about being enchanted. Arthur wanted to yell and curse at Gwaine for not understanding. He wanted everyone to understand what a burden he carried, for them to see that he was not as strong as he tried to show off. But he couldn't, not now. Not when they would just think he was making excuses for his actions. That would have to wait, if the time ever even came.

"I thought I saw him, once," said Gwaine suddenly, his voice suddenly hushed and soft. "Merlin. Several weeks ago."

"What happened?" asked Guinevere.

"I was in a tavern. Yeah, I was drunk, but I know what I saw!" he added defensively at the looks he was given by the group. "I know what I saw, and it was not a vision. I know I what I saw was real."

The group gave him a skeptical look before he continued.

"Anyway, I was drunk, and I swear I saw him, in the back. I didn't get a clear view of his entire face, but I saw him smile. You know that stupid goofy smile he always had plastered on? You couldn't mistake it for any other. I know it was him…" his voice cracked and trailed off. He angrily brushed tears from his eyes.

The rest of the group looked on him with pity. They could only imagine what a horrible experience that could have been, thinking you saw a dead friend only for it to be a hallucination. They believed his story, but knew that Merlin was most definitely not in that tavern that night.

"And now you're looking for a sorcerer?" asked Gwaine, changing the subject, and failing to look more cheery. "Seems ironic."

"We have no choice," said Guinevere before Arthur could respond. "Morgana is planning an attack on Camelot. An attack with an army of sorcerers."

Gwaine didn't look surprised. "Sounds about right," he commented. "I didn't expect them to stay in hiding long after the execution."

Arthur scowled. "We are seeking a man named Emrys," he explained. "We have been told that he is living in the Perilous Lands."

Gwaine, still unphased, simply nodded, looking back into the fire. "The Perilous Lands…" he murmured. "Perfect place for hiding if you don't want to be caught."

"What do you mean?" asked Leon.

"Well if he's a sorcerer, I wouldn't expect him to stay out in the open. Too many people hunting you down, ready to kill you on sight."

The group shuddered slightly at the realization. Before they hadn't put too much though into why Emrys would live in such a place. Now it made perfect, although twisted, sense.

"Will you join us?" asked Arthur quietly, staring at the ex-knight intently. "We could use someone like you. You knew Merlin closely, perhaps you could help us persuade the man to help us."

Gwaine sat back, looking back at the king questioningly. Finally, "Yes, I will join you. But not to support you. I will join for Merlin's sake; he wouldn't have wanted me to abandon you when you needed help."

Relief flooded over the King and his party.

"Thank you."

"This doesn't mean I've forgiven you."

"Likewise."

Gwaine tried to smile, which turned out to be more of a grimace. He turned away from the group and laid down on his side, ready to sleep.

"Good night, Princess. Best get your beauty sleep."


	26. Chapter 25

Merlin had stayed in the Fisher King's castle for over a week now. The quiet peace around him was soothing, but he was finding that he was growing restless. The wyverns had been hunting for him, bringing back small game for him to eat. There was not much in the Perilous Lands themselves that Merlin could find to eat.

He had, for the most part, tamed the wyverns, even befriended a couple to the best of his abilities. They were still wild and proud of their dragon-like lineage, but he found that some had kinder souls than others. Like him, these beasts were mistaken for pure evil and inhuman wildness.

He had called the Great Dragon again, when he was lonely and longing for another voice besides his own. The wyverns, while he now understood them to be just as emotional and caring as any other creature, could not speak, and were only able to succumb to his Dragonlord commands.

He and Kilgharrah had spoken and talked for a good part of the day. At first the dragon was surprised at not being summoned for advice, but for companionship. Soon though, he realized his friend's loneliness and did his best to simply converse. He had not done so for years, and even when Aithusa was still under his care before disappearing, he had had troubles simply discussing useless things for the enjoyment of company. He soon began to realize just how much he needed Merlin, just as Merlin needed him.

"I see you have not found the time to shave," said Kilgharrah, amused.

Merlin rubbed the full beard that had grown on his chin over the past six months, smiling for the first real time since his supposed execution.

"Yeah, finding the supplies to shave has been a bit hard while on the run. I guess Gaius didn't think it necessary enough to include a razor in my pack."

They sat back and talked. At times Kilgharrah would let out a rumbling laugh, while his master would simply smile. It was all Merlin could manage; he had forgotten the sound of his own laughter.

All too soon the sun was setting and Kilgharrah looked up, sensing a new presence.

"Young warlock, I believe you have visitors," he said quietly.

Merlin looked up and soon he too felt the shift in the magic around them. Someone was approaching the ruined castle.

"I will leave you now," said the dragon. Merlin looked up sharply.

"What do you mean you'll leave now?" he demanded. "You're not staying?"

"No, for I know who it is that is here, and I shall not impede their way. They are here for you."

Merlin stood, glancing at the door of his room. He too knew who would be here, knew what they would want. That didn't mean he was ready to face them; in fact, the very thought made him shake. He couldn't tell if it was from fear or anger.

All too suddenly, the dragon stood and unfurled its great wings. With a push that shook the already shaky castle foundations, he lifted himself into the air and took off. Merlin watched with a growing sense of dread as the figure of his only friend left slowly disappeared.

* * *

Arthur, Guinevere, and his knights (former and current), had finally reached the bridge to the Perilous Lands. As they approached, a small man that Gwaine and Arthur immediately recognized stepped out of seemingly nowhere and stood in their way.

"We meet again, Courage and Strength," the man in a slightly squeaky voice, looking at Arthur and Gwaine respectively. The rest of the group stirred, but didn't voice their confusions.

"Grettir," nodded Arthur, stopping in front of him.

"What is it you seek?" asked Grettir.

Arthur answered, "We seek passage into the land of the Fisher King; we were told of a man we could find there."

"You look to find the great warlock, Emrys," said the gatekeeper, after a pause. "But I ask again, what is it you seek?"

Arthur thought a moment. _If he knew why we came, why is he asking again? _But then the answer was right in front of him.

"We seek help. We need assistance, and Emrys is the only one who can provide us with it."

Grettir looked at them a while longer. He seemed to be contemplating what to do with them. He then turned to face the others.

"Loyalty," Grettir said, looking at Sir Leon. The knight returned the gaze with apprehension.

"Loyalty, you have stayed with Courage for many years. And he will need you for many more. I know you will not forsake him, but Albion's time is drawing closer; you must not waver now."

Leon squirmed under such scrutiny. He could feel the man looking through his mind and saw the doubt that he felt towards the King's actions as of late. Quickly he nodded to reaffirm Grettir's words. He would never truly leave Arthur or betray him.

"Bravery," the small man now turned his attention to Sir Percival. "You must not waver either. Your skill and strength must show through the battle to come if you have any hope of winning. You are gentle, yes, but as a knight you must not mistake friend for foe or foe for friend."

Percival tried to work out what had just been said to him, and soon he too nodded in acknowledgement and acceptance of Grettir's advice.

Finally the gatekeeper turned to face Guinevere. "My Lady Fairness," he all but whispered. "You are a great and just queen. While you are fair and beautiful to behold, you must keep your judgments in check; to be fair in form is not nearly as flattering as to be fair in rule. I see that you have had your own trials recently. You must not let prejudice and anger cloud your judgment."

The Queen looked back at Grettir. She knew she was being unfair to Arthur since Merlin's death; but he had deserved it. What he had done was unforgiveable. She looked back up at her husband, both understanding the true meaning behind the man's words.

"Of course," she said, without looking away from Arthur. "I will. I promise."

Grettir then turned to look between Gwaine and Arthur. "And you two," he said. "You two must set aside your differences. You two need each other and if you are to accomplish what you need you must work together. Without Strength, Courage can be nothing. Without Courage, Strength is wasted. Without any of those who surround you, you are nothing. And even together, all of you are nothing without Magic. And he awaits you within the walls of the Fisher King's castle."

Arthur's memory triggered something in his mind.

"Last time I take it, Magic meant Merlin."

"Magic will help you. He is expecting you."

With that Grettir stepped aside and suddenly disappeared. The group looked around at each other nervously, and then set off into the Perilous Lands, seeing a great winged figure in the distance fly slowly away.

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**Author's Note: Hey guys! Yes, we're getting there! Very, very soon will the chapter you've all been waiting and asking for come! I hope you all like it when it gets here. **

**I've also been making some progress with my writing, but I'm still not as far ahead as I'm comfortable with to start posting like I used to. On the plus side, I feel like I'm reaching the climax and can estimate that this will be a 40ish chapter fic, maybe but probably not in the 50s. Not sure yet. We'll see. **

**Hope you guys are happy with this so far; there were some questions answered here too about who's who in the bridge keeper's mind. Woo!**

**Also, shout out to tumblr users captainmaliyastark (told you I would) and thatisillogical and whoever else I asked (someone else answered, but it was a long time ago so I'm sorry that I can't remember who answered exactly) when I was writing this chapter because I'm lame and couldn't remember if Courage and Strength were Gwaine and Arthur or Arthur and Gwaine and they helped me through that small crisis. Thanks guys! **

**Next update maybe Sunday? Hope all you Americans had a nice day off and fun Presidents day! (Also you should go buy some Girl Scout cookies, idk if I can say that on here but it's just a suggestion, no need to take me up on it. Sales end in a couple of weeks, don't miss out!) Yeah ignore that last bit if it's against fanfic rules to say stuff like that, but yeah. (I just read the Terms of Service and I think that's okay? I'm just going to leave it.)**

**Sorry about that tangent...**


	27. Chapter 26

**Author's Note: So an early update because I know that if I make you wait about a week for the next chapter and this is what I give you, I will have quite a few angry readers (by the way OH MY GOSH I CAN'T BELIEVE THERE ARE OVER 300 OF YOU, THANK YOU FOR BEING INTERESTED IN MY STORY), and so I thought I'd appease you by giving this chapter early and then the chapters you've all been waiting for soon after. I will still update Sunday with the next chapter, but you should note that this conversation takes like, 3 chapters and not in a way that I think you might be expecting? maybe? We'll see. **

* * *

Merlin knew who it was. He knew Arthur and his knights had come to find him. Or, more likely, to find Emrys. Quickly he went and grabbed his long dark cloak and pulled the hood up. The thought of meeting them face to face after so long worried him to the point where he may be sick if he dwelled on it. There were answers he needed that he knew Arthur wouldn't give him as Merlin. He had to be Emrys before he revealed himself. He was about to change himself into the old man he became accustomed to becoming when needing a disguise, but soon realized that Arthur now knew who that man really was. That would be no disguise. He rubbed his chin in thought. _His beard…_

Quickly he turned to see his reflection in what remained of a smashed window in the room. If his hood was pulled forward enough to hide the rest of his face besides his mouth, his beard was enough of a disguise. He hadn't let it grow more than a day or two back in Camelot. He thought of what else he'd need to change to not be recognized. He sighed and muttered to himself.

He froze at the sound of his voice; it would be all too familiar to his old friends. He always prided himself on being able to impersonate other voices and accents. He tried out a few. His best bet ended up being a thick Northern accent. He could still hear his own voice through it, but hopefully the others wouldn't.

* * *

The small company made their way to castle. They could see the wyverns flying around in the fading light. Arthur and Gwaine looked up in horror; they had almost died at the wyvern's hands. How could they have forgotten about such monsters living here?

Still they pressed on, moving as stealthily as they could to avoid the flying beasts. They all had their swords unsheathed, and as they reached the castle's steps, a terrible screech could be heard from above them.

Looking up, they saw a wyvern, not very big in size compared to the others, hurtling towards them.

"Run!"

They took off, heading for what they thought would be safety in the castle, but soon found that even inside was infested with the creatures. They were soon surrounded; brandishing their swords, they formed a circle facing outwards to the menacing wyverns.

A screech came from one as it lunged forward, slashing at Leon. He easily blocked its clumsy swipe, and attacked, leaving a gash on its arm. The other wyverns, roaring with rage at their injured comrade, began to attack with full force. Soon Percival and Gwaine were sporting cuts on their arms, while Guinevere had received a long scratch upon her cheek. Arthur and Leon, being the most experienced knights, had not received such injuries as their friends, but they knew it wouldn't last long. Sure enough, a wyvern got so close to Arthur as he fought off another that when he turned he barely had time to register how close those talons and fangs were before he was knocked to the ground, the wyvern on top of him and his sword fell out of his hand. It stood over him, about to strike and Arthur just about gave up hope when—

A roar was heard over the snarls and clamor of the fight: "_Wyvern , paraititheí . Den eínai pléon epíthesi , giatí eínai fíloi mas , óchi echthroí!"_

Suddenly the wyverns backed off, all sporting their own injuries. None had died, though some looked gravely wounded. Arthur and those with him looked up to where the voice had come from. At the top of a set of stairs stood a man wearing a long hooded cloak. They could not see his face, but from what the hood didn't cover they saw a dark full beard. The man faced the wyverns and they seemed to communicate in that look. Finally, the great animals rose and flew out and away into the darkening sky.

They group slowly gathered together in a huddle, looking up at the man. He stared back down at them (as they assumed, unable to see his eyes), and then turned away and went down the corridor.

After sharing glances with each other, they set off after him. This had to be the man they were looking for. He did not slow down for them, but neither did he speed up as if to run away. He seemed to be aware they were following him, and he appeared comfortable with that. As they watched him, they realized that what was lighting the dark hallway was not a torch as they had first assumed. The man had a small fire contained in his hand that he held up, showing the way.

The mysterious man turned into a room and sent the fire to a small pile of wood in the center. The flames quickly rose and gave the room light and warmth enough to be comfortable. The group started as they saw one of the wyverns they had just fought in the room, nursing its own injuries. The man went over to it, and examined its wounds. They heard him whisper a few soft words and the cuts and injuries on the beast disappeared. The creature gave the man what could only be called an affectionate nuzzle, then took off through the open ceiling.

The man sat at the far end of the room, keeping to the shadows, but stayed close enough to the fire to make his invitation obvious to the group. Slowly then filed in and sat around him, watching him with anticipation.

**Translation:****_ Wyvern, stand down. No longer attack, for they are our friends, not enemies._**

* * *

**Author's Note: Shoutout to the reviewer (I'm so sorry, I can't remember who specifically it was) that caught the fact that Merlin asked for the Wyvern's protection. Also, I've noticed in some of the reviews that a couple of you have already called what I've been planning on doing with this, but I will say no more. You'll get anonymous shoutouts when those chapters come (anonymous due to my horrible memory and lack of motivation to sift through all the amazing reviews I've gotten so far). **

**Also, the language I used with the wyverns is Greek. I know that dragonspeech in the show is in Ancient Greek or something, but this was the best I could get. I had Welsh originally, but I knew that was the wrong language. Sorry if it's not 100% accurate.**


	28. Chapter 27

**Author's Note: Here you go! The moment you've all been waiting for (at least the first part of it)! This conversation takes 2 chapters, but expect the next part maybe Thursday or Friday (I know, I'm an evil human being). **

**Oh, and one thing that I wanted to address a couple chapters ago that I kept forgetting about: in the chapter when Arthur and the gang meet up with the bridge keeper, I mentioned something like Percival trying to figure out what was said to him. I know a lot of fics like, for some reason, to dumb down Percival, but I really wasn't doing that. I just thought that what was said was worded confusingly to anyone, and it happened to be directed to Percival. So, no, I wasn't trying to make him out to be stupid, I really like him and wish that he had had a bigger part in the series. Just wanted to clarify that in case anyone thought that I was doing that. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

He simply stared back, refusing to make the first move. Finally Arthur cleared his throat. The man quickly turned towards the King.

"Are you Emrys?" It may have been a pointless question, but it felt best to clarify.

"Depends on what you want," came a rough voice with such a thick accent they almost couldn't understand him. They seemed taken aback at such a voice, but there was something slightly familiar about it to all of them, as if they had heard it somewhere before.

Arthur did his best to stop trying to place the voice in his head. "I'll take that as a 'yes.'"

"What do you want?" asked the man again, this time impatiently.

Arthur eyed him wearily. "Thank you," he said. "For saving us back there."

"Nothing to save you from. The wyverns were simply protecting their castle, the way you would protect your land," he said with bitterness in his voice.

"Emrys," Arthur started.

"Haven't confirmed anything yet," grumbled the man.

"Emrys," he started forcefully again. "We need your help. You are the only one who can help us. We're here in a time of great urgency and desperation. Please."

Arthur never begged. The group and the man looked up in surprise. They weren't expecting this tactic from their king.

"And why should I help you, Arthur Pendragon?" sneered the hooded man. "Yes, I know who you are. You have killed my kind and executed too many than can be forgiven. Why should I come to Camelot's aid when I will most likely be killed as soon as my work is done?"

Arthur did his best to cover his frustration and shame. "Because," said Arthur, trying to think of how to word this perfectly. "Because Morgana is forming an army of sorcerers. I have been trying my best to change the laws concerning magic these past several months; if she attacks, Camelot will fall to her tyranny."

"What makes you think Camelot isn't already under a tyrant?"

A shocked silence filled the air. The man's brazenness surprised all of them, to say the least. He chuckled at their speechlessness.

"Never thought of that, did you? How many people have you killed, Pendragon? How many have died at your hand, at your father's hand? And how many were justified killings? You, King of Camelot, are nothing more than a murderer," the man spat out these last words with utmost contempt and anger.

"I know what I've done in the past, but I can't help what has happened then. It was not my fault that I was raised to-"

"Don't you try to use that excuse with me," threatened the man. "Don't you dare hide behind the bloody cape of your father's teachings. You still had a mind of your own; you still had a choice to defy him when you were sent to kill innocent men, women, and children. So tell me, Pendragon, why should I help you? You even killed your manservant; a close friend if I recall."

Silence pierced through the air. Even the wind and wyverns outside the room could not be heard outside, as if the whole castle was holding its breath for an answer.

Arthur swallowed before continuing. "I understand that I must take charge of my past actions. I regret them more and more every day. And there is no death that I regret more than that of Merlin. I cannot explain myself where he is concerned."

"Then try," hissed the man, narrowing his eyes, even if the group couldn't see.

Arthur had never looked so lost and helpless. Tears were forming in his eyes as he stared into the fire, thinking back to Merlin's last days in this world.

"I honestly cannot recall what my thoughts were. I… I have no idea what caused me to execute him. I didn't want to; I was going to let him free. I was going to change the laws," he looked up at the man and the group around him pleadingly. "When I saw him, down there, on… on the pyre…" his hollow voice trailed off as a tear fell.

He took a shuddering breath before continuing, "When I saw him there, I realized what I had done. I couldn't believe it. I didn't understand why he was there, why he was staring at me like that. And then I remembered. I remembered my sentence, what I had said. What I had done," his voice was shaking and he couldn't stop it. Never had anyone around that circle seen their King break down like this. Pity and guilt filled their hearts as they thought back on their own actions the past several months. They still hadn't quite forgiven him, but they began to realize just how much he was suffering with them at Merlin's loss.

The man didn't move. "So, tell me, Pendragon. Do you fear for Camelot?"

"Sorry?" Arthur looked confused.

"Do you feel fear for you kingdom?" he asked.

Arthur thought for a moment before answering. "Yes, yes I fear for Camelot's safety and future. I fear for what will become of my people if Morgana takes over. I fear what will happen to the world that I have been trying to build if she gains the power she seeks."

The man was silent for a few seconds before whispering back in a voice so quiet and dangerous the rest of the group felt shivers run down their spines. "No. No, you don't feel fear. You have no idea what fear is, and you believe yourself so strong and _courageous_, when you cannot possibly have known what real fear is. Shall I enlighten you, your majesty? Would you like to know what it is like to truly feel fear?"

Arthur stayed quiet. Everyone held their breaths for what he was going to say next.

"You have no idea what it is like, none of you, to live everyday of your life in fear that it may be your last. To wake up every day with a paralyzing fear that you might not be back in your bed that night, but you have to get up anyway and face the day like nothing is wrong. To face your best friends and have to play the fool when you are really so much more than them, when you could knock them all off their feet with just a few words or a glance. You have idea what it is like to be raised alone, shunned from the world, keeping secrets and telling lies, because if anyone were to find out, there went your head. You have no idea what it's like, growing up knowing that if any of your friends knew what you really are, they would think you're a monster. Because that's what we are, right? Why else would we be hunted and killed? Why else would everyone in the world hate and fear us? There has to be a reason, and so you believe them. You believe you're a monster. You believe that you're evil, and the world is better off without you. You don't see how or why, because you're just you, but why else would you have to live like this? Any small slip up could end you up in the gallows or with your head on the chopping block before sundown.

"And then you're not only scared of what others can and will do to you. You're scare of what you could do to them or to yourself. Not many sorcerers can get proper training, so there's just that raw and inexperienced power you're trying to suppress. You have no idea what could happen if you snapped. If just one thing pushed you over the edge and you hurt someone. It could be someone you hate, someone you love. And then you really do become that monster. You really are that hated being that deserves to be hunted and brought down. No, not to justice, just down. The world is safer without you, people you love would be better off without you near them to hurt them. You belong nowhere in the world. You have no home. Anywhere you go you will just run into the same problems, the same fear, the same prejudice. And you live like this everyday.

"That's how your manservant lived, Arthur Pendragon. That's how anyone in your kingdom with magic lives, really anyone in all of Albion with magic lives like that. There are no safe corners for us to hide, no safe havens where we are protected. I myself was living in a cave where I thought I was safe, but was smoked out like a wild hare or fox to be caught by a bounty hunter. Do I deserve that? Am I nothing more than a creature that needs to be hunted? And I thought here I was safe, yet here you found me. And tell me now, Pendragon, tell me now how you feel fear. Tell me that you know what fear even feels like. And if you can, well, I bet my magic that you can't."

The group had listened with a growing horror at each word the man spoke. Was the really how Merlin lived? Was this really how so many unknown sorcerers and citizens of Camelot lived? How many did actually live like this? How could anyone live like this? What kind of existence was that?

And they began to understand. They began to see why Merlin had never told anyone, why he wouldn't go out to the tavern to drink with Gwaine and the Knights. They began to understand why Morgana was doing what she was doing, and why so many people were aiding her. But they also realized that there was no way they could relate, no way that they could fully comprehend such a life.

Arthur's face was full of sorrow and remorse. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't know—"

"No, you didn't. And you don't know. You have no comprehension of what pain and fear you have instilled in many of your subjects. I should be on their side. I should go join Morgana and fight for her. But you expect me to help you. Give me one good reason why."

This wasn't going as planned. They were losing this argument. There was little that could be said to win him over. They needed him, and now that they realized what was going on in the minds of the people fighting against them, and that fear that was being acted upon shook them to the core. Now, more than ever, they knew they needed this man's help. He was their only hope.

* * *

**Author's Note: "Help us Emrys, you're our only hope."- Medieval Earth Princess Leia (sorry I had to).**


	29. Chapter 28

**Author's Note: I just have a feeling that I'm going to have a lot more angry readers at the end of this chapter...**

* * *

Merlin hadn't planned on speaking so rashly to Arthur and the others, but as soon as he saw them, and heard Arthur's excuses, his pent up anger and frustration burst forth. This was the man who he had considered a friend, whom he had trusted and cared for. This was the man who had sentenced him to death, who watched him burn at the stake and let him die.

But as the conversation went on, he began to see the pain in Arthur's eyes, see the remorse and guilt that was there. But he still didn't understand why Merlin had kept this secret from him for so long. He still didn't understand why Emrys wouldn't jump up and help this time. He did his best to make Arthur understand what he's gone through. He tried to make Arthur realize where these people were coming from, and most of all, he himself needed to understand why Arthur had killed him. Nothing made sense anymore; his destiny, this battle, why Arthur and his old friends were here, nothing.

Arthur looked helplessly at him, looking more like a lost puppy than anything. Finally he answered Merlin's question, "Because Merlin would have. Merlin would have wanted you to. I know he had a good heart and I realize now how much he sacrificed by fighting for us, even if we didn't know it. And Merlin wouldn't have wanted Camelot to fall to Morgana. I can see you don't either, why else are you here and not with her now? I know that it's hard, helping a kingdom that has hated your kind for so long, but please know that I will do everything in my power, if we win, to ensure that you and your kind do not live in fear. I will make sure that you are accepted. I'll even give you a place in the royal court as Court Sorcerer. I know it's a lot to ask, but please, for Merlin, I'm asking for your help."

Merlin sat back and looked at them, contemplating what to say to that. Yes, Merlin would have wanted someone else to help Camelot if he was unable to. Yes, Merlin would actually help Arthur, and he will, but not all of his questions are answered yet. He still needed to know why, when faced with this regretful King, he was actually put to death. Arthur's story of not realizing his actions wasn't very convincing to Merlin, but there was a spark of some sort of familiarity going off in Merlin's head when he heard it. He needed a better explanation.

"Then, for Merlin, I ask again," he said slowly. "Why did you kill him? Or, if you can't remember, like you claim, why not?"

Arthur's face crumpled into confusion as he pondered the question, and annoyance that his plea for help was being ignored flashing across his face. Resolve and determination finally took their place as he looked up to answer.

"I have wondered that myself ever since he died," he said quietly. "And the only explanation that I can come up with is enchantment. I know it obviously wasn't Merlin who did it, but I fear that the reason I was not acting myself those days before his execution was because I was enchanted by another sorcerer to kill him. It doesn't quite make sense to me, but… it's all I can think of."

Merlin listened with a growing sense of realization and dread. Now that he thought back to it, when Arthur had sentenced him he knew that there was something else going on there. There was that spark, that dull spark behind Arthur's eyes when he was sentenced. He knew that it wasn't Arthur who had sentenced him, he knew that someone else wanted him dead. _I shall never forgive this Emrys. And never shall I forget…_

"Mordred…" he whispered softly.

Arthur stared back at him in shock, while the rest seemed confused.

"Sorry?" asked Gwen. "What did you say?"

Merlin lifted his head slightly towards Arthur to acknowledge that he had heard. Arthur nodded.

"Yes, I believe it to be him, too," he said quietly.

"Sorry, but who're we talking about?" asked Gwaine.

"Mordred," said Arthur a bit louder than before, still staring at Merlin in disbelief. "How did you know?"

"He is not to be trusted," said Merlin harshly. "I have had my glimpse into the future, and the young knight is destined to play a significant role in your death. You must be cautious, Arthur."

As Arthur's face flashed with recognition, Merlin realized his accented voice had slipped slightly, but noticeably when he had spoken. He coughed to try to cover it up; Arthur had more important things to worry about than who actually belonged to the fake voice.

But the king wasn't giving up that easily.

* * *

Arthur's suspicions were confirmed when he heard the man mutter Mordred's name under his breath. He had not fully trusted the young man with much since the execution, but now knew that his actions were correct. However, he froze when he heard the man's warning, but not just because of his words.

His voice. There was something even more familiar about his voice. The thick Northern accent had faded as he urgently warned the King about his knight, but it was the voice with which the warning was spoken that sent chills down his spine.

It was the voice of a dead man.

As he glanced around at the people who had accompanied him, he knew he wasn't just imagining it. They were staring at the man incredulously too. They had heard the familiar tone of an old friend in the warning, and they all knew who that voice belonged to.

Merlin.

_But how could it be? _Wondered Arthur._ Merlin's gone. That voice shouldn't be heard anywhere anymore…_

The man seemed to realize what happened, and coughed in an attempt to cover up his blunder. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Arthur had had enough.

Leaping to his feet Arthur pulled out his sword. "Show yourself," he demanded. "Remove your hood."

The man, too, stood up to face Arthur. "Why should I? You have more important things to worry about than my face, Pendragon!"

Arthur stepped forward and, with the tip of his sword, cut the tie of the man's cloak before he had a chance to move back. The cloak, hood and all, fell to the ground, revealing his face.

* * *

**Author's Note: No, seriously guys. You should just get used to cliffhangers for this story. **

**Let me know what you think!**


	30. Chapter 29

**Author's Note: Here it is. The Chapter. The Chapter you've all been waiting for. The reunion. I really hope I don't disappoint anyone with this. I actually struggled to write this one and in the end rewrote it because I really didn't like the first version I had (I don't think you'd have liked it either). Personally, reading back over it, I almost feel like it's a bit rushed, but I'm happy with it. **

**Oh, and one more thing: I really, really enjoyed reading your comments last chapter. To answer the question, yes. I do enjoy torturing you. But not for long, I get bored. Plus I got my first death threat, so I feel accomplished in life. Thank you!**

* * *

Silence filled the air as the two men stared at each other, one in defiance, the other in shock. The group stared at the man too, and they all had risen to their feet in astonishment.

It was Merlin.

_But no, this couldn't be Merlin, Merlin was dead, _was the resounding thought in all of their heads. _But that voice, and those eyes… _

They could not deny that Merlin stood in front of them, alive and well.

He looked about as uncomfortable as them, though he lacked the confusion written across their faces. Instead, he seemed defensive, ready to run if the need came. Arthur stood there, staring at him, unable to speak. No one seemed able to break the silence until—

"Hello, Arthur," said Merlin quietly in his normal voice. He turned and nodded the rest of them in turn.

Arthur immediately raised his sword again in apprehension.

Merlin regarded it with weary indifference. "You're going to kill me again?" he asked tiredly.

Arthur looked down at his sword and slowly lowered it again. Looking back up at Merlin, he tilted his head in confusion, unsure of whether to trust this figure that resembled his friend so closely. Finally he seemed able to find his voice.

"Merlin…?"

Merlin offered a small smile and opened his arms. "In the flesh."

Distrust and confusion were clouding Arthur's face. With a loud clang his sword fell to the ground and his breathing hitched. The rest of the group held their breaths as they too dared not believe what they were seeing.

"Merlin."

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "Yes?"

Arthur's face suddenly scrunched in denial and he vigorously shook his head. "No, no this can't be." He looked the man up and down, trying to find some flaw with it to prove his point. "No, it can't… You're not… You can't be…"

"Are you disappointed?" The man who so closely looked like Merlin asked, seeming slightly crestfallen, but was masking it well.

"I- no, but this," Arthur struggled to find words. "You… I mean… This can't…" He gestured towards Merlin, finally finding some coherent sentence.

"You're dead."

"Yes, I suppose that is what the world believes," replied Merlin, his voice heavy with sorrow.

"No, you're dead, I watched you die…" Arthur's voice faltered at the guilt of his confession. This couldn't be. He most definitely saw the man he had grown to love as a brother die in front of his eyes, by his own doing. He had lived and dealt with the best he could with the guilt of knowing he had killed his best friend.

"Did you really think you could kill me with just a fire?" asked Merlin softly, the betrayal renewed in his eyes. "I can fake my death easily enough."

Arthur still couldn't believe his eyes. He couldn't trust his ears; the all too familiar voice ringing in his head sent him reeling. Everything else in the room stopped existing; all he could focus on was the man standing in front of him, vulnerable and alone. He needed to know that he was real, that this was not some cruel apparition sent to torment him. Tentatively, he took a small step forward towards the man who so closely resembled Merlin. He was close enough to reach out to touch him. Gently, he rose his hand, and pressed it against Merlin's shoulder, giving a small but powerless push. As soon as he realized the figure in front of him was real, solid, and _there_, he lost all reservations.

"Merlin?" Merlin offered a small smile in return. Arthur rushed forward, closing the space between them and pulled the man into a tight hug, whispering his name in disbelief. He felt Merlin stiffen before he too tentatively reached around his friend and hugged him back.

When they broke apart, the king was shamelessly crying. He beamed through the tears falling down his face, holding onto Merlin's shoulders like a lifeline.

"You…" He almost couldn't say it. "You're alive."

"Yes," whispered Merlin. "Alive and here."

He then turned to the rest of the group, smiling. "It's good to see you all again."

Suddenly it was like they had been released from a spell. They rushed forward, headed by Gwen and Gwaine, enveloping their old friend in hugs and exclamations of relief. _Merlin was alive_. He was alive and well and here in their arms, where he should be, where he always should've been. Gwen didn't hide her tears, and even Gwaine allowed a small tear to fall. Merlin felt himself start to cry and he quickly wiped his eyes with a small chuckle.

Arthur stood, watching the reunion before he was dragged in by his wife. He didn't want this feeling to end, this euphoric feeling of everything being right in the world. As he was joined in the group hug, he forgot completely about Morgana and the impending doom of his kingdom. He forgot about the last six months of guilt and grief as he embraced his long lost friends. Everything was going to be okay. _Merlin's going to come back with us, we'll defeat Morgana together, and we shall finally make Camelot the great kingdom it is meant to become. _

Finally the group broke apart and there was not a dry eye. Hope had been restored to the party from Camelot, and Merlin looked truly happy for once.

"Tell us, mate," said Gwaine. "Where the hell've you been?"

"Oh, you know," said Merlin gesturing widely to the air. "Around."

Gwaine looked at him suspiciously. "Did you ever go into a tavern in a small village south of Camelot? Several weeks ago? Maybe a couple of months?"

Merlin smiled and laughed. "Were you singing with a barmaid?"

Gwaine's smile practically broke his face as the rest of the group laughed. "I knew it was you!" he yelled. "I knew it! And she was the inn keepers daughter, mind you! I tried to follow you but you were long gone by the time I was able to get out of the town."

"Yes, well, things weren't going so great for me at that time. I had to keep moving," explained Merlin.

"Why?" asked Leon. "Why would you keep running if everyone thought you were dead? Why not just start a new life somewhere?"

Merlin's smile faltered slightly. "Because everywhere I went, eventually that town would get the news of King Arthur of Camelot's manservant being executed for sorcery. It wasn't exactly news that I wanted to listen to on repeat. Not to mention it's dangerous for, well, someone like me to stay in one place for very long anyway."

This managed to subdue the rest of the group as they each felt the shame of putting their friend through this.

"What do you mean, it's dangerous?" asked Percival. "I mean, if anyone found out, yeah, I get it, but in a new place, no one would know, right?"

"Yes, but that's not the point. The point is that I'd be doing the same thing, living the same lie that I have always lived, risking my life just by breathing. There's nowhere in the five kingdoms where someone with magic can be truly safe. No matter where we go, we'll always be hunted, always feared. I was tired of living in that fear, and so before I could settle down or find somewhere that _felt_ remotely safe, I would move on. It was better that way."

Their shame and guilt grew with each word Merlin spoke. Finally Leon broke the silence.

"You said you lived in a cave…?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes," said Merlin sadly. "There was a bounty hunter following me. I thought I had gotten him off my trail, but still deemed it best if I were to stay out of towns for a while. Just try to live alone, away from prying eyes. Didn't work though, he and some others found me eventually. Chased me out. I was on the move again, this time being actively hunted.

"So I came here. Seemed safer than anywhere else. Didn't think anyone would actually find me here," he added with a sly look towards Arthur. "But the bridge keeper told me you'd come. So I've been expecting you since."

Arthur allowed himself to look relieved at the fact that he was at least not unwelcome. Finally, he steeled himself to ask the question they had come to get answered, though he felt that he knew what Merlin was going to say.

"So, you'll come back with us, right?" he asked. "You'll come back to Camelot and help us?"

The group smiled expectantly at Merlin, awaiting his acceptance. And suddenly, Merlin knew that he couldn't. He couldn't go back there with them. He couldn't just ignore the past six months of his life like they never happened. Yes, he knew that Arthur was not truly to blame for his execution, but it still hurt to look at him. It still hurt to look into any of their faces and see the relief that he was not actually dead when, in reality, the Merlin they knew died in that fire.

"No."

* * *

**Author's Note: No, seriously, I mean it. Get used to cliffhangers (even though this one isn't as bad as the last one).**


	31. Chapter 30

_"No."_

Arthur's smile fell, and was replaced with confusion.

"No?" he questioned. "What do you mean, 'no?'"

"I'm not going back with you to Camelot," Merlin said, almost unable to look at the disappointment falling on everyone's face. "I just… can't."

"And why the hell not?" demanded Arthur, not believing his ears.

Merlin ran a hand through his hair, "It's just… I can't… You don't understand. And your asking me just further proves my point. I _can't_ go back, I can't go with you. I'm sorry."

Merlin stepped back and away from the group, looking truly regretful, like he really _did _want to help. The betrayal and confusion in the eyes of the nobles around him hurt his heart.

"I don't understand," said Leon slowly. "Why can't you?"

"Don't you see?" Merlin demanded. "Don't you see what I've been through? What people like me have been through? And I told you, I have every reason besides my damn destiny to be on Morgana's side. She knows what it is to be truly alone. She knows what life is like for people like me, while you can't even imagine it.

"And even if I could go back with you, I'm just one man! Yes, I'm powerful, but me against an army, probably trained by Morgana, a High Priestess, herself!? No, not even I could win that singlehandedly. There's nothing I could even do to help if I came back with you. I'm sorry."

And with that, Merlin pushed past them and out the door, leaving them in stunned silence. What were they supposed to do now? Not only was Merlin alive, but he suddenly refused to help them. Their only possible savior for their kingdom denied them help. The one man who could possibly stand a chance against Morgana seemed to just threaten to join her. That couldn't be. That didn't make sense. Never, in all his life, even when he first learned of Merlin's magic and felt the sting of betrayal and lies, would Arthur have guessed that Merlin would even consider joining Morgana. He was too loyal, too kind at heart to ever fight with her, wasn't he? Or had the past six months of living alone and hunted been too much for him, causing his heart to harden with bitterness? Was he really going to fight against them?

Slowly the group returned to the fire, consumed by their own thoughts. Arthur's head was so full of swirling notions and worries that his brain seemed to just be giving off a blank buzz as he stared into the fire. Eventually, Guinevere stood up and went out the door, catching the King's attention. He made to get up to go with her, but with a stern look, he knew better than to defy her. While he questioned Merlin's loyalty to himself and Camelot, he still trusted that his old friend would not allow the wyverns to attack any of them, even if they were alone. He knew his wife would be safe as he settled back down into his chaotic thoughts.

* * *

Merlin pushed past his old friends and left the room. He couldn't stand being in there anymore, to see those faces he had come to love stained with hurt and betrayal. He couldn't make them understand his reasoning, and he knew it would be fruitless to try. They couldn't know how he felt, how he lived. They couldn't understand the kind of fear and hopelessness he had experienced.

_Well, now it's their turn._

The thought surprised him, but not as much as he would have thought. What surprised him more was the realization of how bitter he had become. He wasn't doing this because he simply couldn't win against Morgana's army. He was doing this to spite them, to make them see and feel how he felt. It only seemed fair that they experience the kind of fear he had his whole life, if only for a few weeks. It was their turn to feel so utterly lost and helpless in the face of certain death. Their doom was marked out for them, as was his if he ventured out of these walls, and he wanted them to know what it was to live with that knowledge.

He found himself in the throne room of the Fisher King, bare with a throne of what once must have been great grandeur, now reduced to a decrepit chair. He dared not sit on it, out of his respect for the Fisher King, but sat in front of it, on the ground looking at it.

Eventually he heard footsteps in the hallway, and he saw Gwen poke her head into the room. He still was focused on the chair, but was aware of her coming in and sitting down beside him. Together they sat in silence for a few minutes, gazing at the chair.

Gwen broke the silence, "Why are you being like this?"

Merlin turned his head slightly but refused to look at her.

"This isn't like you, Merlin," she tried again.

"Yes," said Merlin quietly. "It is. It is now, at least. I've changed Gwen, maybe not for the better, but being burnt at the stake and hunted does that to you."

"We both know this has nothing to do with your execution," she said. "I know you've already forgiven Arthur for it, I saw it in your eyes when you hugged. So why are you doing this?"

"Because, Gwen," he was nearly shouting. "Because you don't understand. And you can't understand."

"We're trying, Merlin!" her cries were matching his. "We're trying to understand, we want to!"

Merlin gave a short and humorless laugh. "No, Gwen," he whispered darkly. "No, you don't want to understand, but you will. And I'm sorry."

She finally caught the meaning of what he had been saying. He was making them understand, making them pay for what they'd done to his kind in the past. She couldn't blame him, but the thought of Merlin exacting such a bitter revenge upon them sent shivers down her spine.

She remained quiet for few moments before asking a new question.

"So are you actually going to join Morgana?"

"No," he said. "No, she hates me, and I could never fight with someone so deluded as she."

He heard Gwen give a small sigh of relief as she relaxed.

"So what are you going to do?"

Merlin turned back to the throne, pausing before answering.

"Watch."

Gwen's eyes grew wide in horror.

"What do you mean 'watch'? You're just going to stand there and allow Camelot to fall?"

"Camelot will not fall, of that I assure you, Gwen."

"How can you be so certain?! If you do not help us the kingdom will fall to Morgana!"

"That will never happen."

"Merlin, you're our only hope of winning this war, you cannot simply just refuse to help and then say that everything will be okay! Everything will not be okay! We need you, Merlin!"

Merlin turned to face her full on. "I will be of no help if I come back to Camelot with you. I cannot do anything. I'm sorry."

"Cannot or will not, Merlin?" she said standing up. "Whatever happened to my old friend, I miss him. And I wish I could have him back."

She stormed out of throne room, trying to hide her tears from the man she once thought she knew.

_Me too…_


	32. Chapter 31

**Author's Note: Okay, so last chapter, I got quite a few reviews complaining about how OOC Merlin is acting. Well, I'd like to see you work to save an entire kingdom with absolutely no acknowledgement and fear for your life and friendships everyday, only to have been killed by who you consider your best friend and then have to fake your death and live on your own and on the run for six months and not end up bitter. **

**Just joking, please don't take that personally, I'm being sarcastic but sarcasm doesn't work well in text. **

**Yes, Merlin is being a bit OOC, but honestly I think he deserves to be bitter. But I promise, don't worry about Merlin just "watching." He would never do that, and I'm trying to stay true to the character. No more, in case of SPOILERS. **

**And someone caught onto certain aspects of my writing and dialog in the last chapter, and it makes me really happy when that happens, so kudos to you (not going to say who, but good job)!**

* * *

Guinevere walked back into the room where they had all stayed. It seemed better reserved than the rest of the decaying castle, though there were sizable holes and chunks in the ceiling, revealing a starry sky. The fire was in the center of the room, and the knights were gathered around it. Arthur and the others had been sitting in silence the entire time, unsure of how to proceed. When the Queen returned, it was evident that she had been crying. Arthur stood up to meet her.

"No luck?"

She simply shook her head and burrowed her face into Arthur's shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and led her back to the fire. About ten minutes later, Merlin himself entered. Everyone looked back up at him, expecting a change of heart, a glimpse of their old friend.

Instead, he said, "You're welcome to stay the night, but you should head back to Camelot in the morning. It's a long journey and it sounds like you don't have much time to prepare."

Merlin avoided their disappointed eyes and he went back to where he had sat before. As he passed Arthur and Gwen, something caught his eye.

"You're injured," he said softly, turning to face Gwen. She reached up and touched the scratch she had received when fighting the wyverns.

"Here, let me help," Merlin offered, crouching next to her. He put his hand up to perform a small healing spell, then paused. Looking Gwen in the eye, he asked, "May I?"

She nodded slowly. With a low murmur and a small flash of gold, the scratch disappeared. Gwen reached up to her face again, feeling where the wound had just been.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Merlin stood and turned to the others. "Was anyone else hurt?"

He proceeded to go around to the entire group, healing the small maladies they had sustained. They all remained quiet as he worked, from apprehension and awe at seeing their old friend being himself for once.

But he wasn't himself. He was different, changed. He had grown bitter and uncaring, he was willing to let Camelot fall to Morgana. They could not dissuade his mind. Nevertheless, that didn't stop Gwaine from trying again.

"Merlin, mate, I wouldn't mind seeing you in action for once. Out in the open, fighting with us."

Merlin smiled, "I always have fought beside you with magic. Sometimes it was pure luck none of you ever saw me."

"Yeah, but never out in the open. You've always been in the shadows, never taking the front position you deserve."

"I don't do it for recognition."

"Well that much is obvious, but still. You deserve to be recognized for what you've done. You deserve to be acknowledged."

"Then go ahead and thank me, but that won't change my answer."

Gwaine grabbed his arm and stared at the warlock until he made eye contact and held it.

"Thank you," he said with such sincerity to his voice that Merlin was rendered speechless for a few moments before he awkwardly nodded and looked away quickly.

After a few more minutes of suffocating silence, Merlin finally muttered a quick "good night" and moved over to where his bed roll was. Slowly, everyone else started drifting off to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, before dawn peeked over the horizon, everyone in the room was already up. Merlin had started a fire and made breakfast in silence. The group had already packed their belongings and watched as Merlin made the pan float over the fire and a wooden spoon stir the contents without the aid of a physical hand. As Merlin, taking the pan from its place over the fire, served them, Arthur broke the silence.

"I thought I knew you, Merlin. I trusted you."

Without looking up, Merlin replied, "I'm sorry."

"Gaius will be happy to learn you're alive."

Merlin looked up sharply. "How is he?"

"Doing fine, I suppose. I don't believe he's stopped grieving for you." The king studied Merlin closely as he chose his next words. "He goes to Ealdor often, to look after Hunith."

At these words, Merlin closed his eyes as grief and guilt washed over him.

"How is she?" he asked, his voice barely keeping steady.

"Alive, but since your supposed death, she's practically lost all will to live."

Merlin didn't fight the tear that rolled down his face as the words acted like a sword to his heart. "I never went back to Ealdor. I didn't want to put her in danger, I didn't want attention drawn to that village. If I had gone and word got out that her son is a sorcerer, I fear of what may have become of her. She doesn't deserve the fear that I must live in."

"But you needn't live in fear anymore, Merlin," said Gwen in earnest. "Arthur is working to change the laws concerning magic. We are working to legalize its use in the kingdom again."

Merlin forced a smile. "Be that as it may, my answer remains the same. It is almost time for you to go now."

"You would have a safe haven in Camelot," implored Arthur.

"Perhaps."

Arthur stood up, annoyance flashing across his face as he stabbed at the ground with his sword, effectively doing nothing to the stonework of the castle chambers. The group had finished breakfast and everything was packed. He stared down at Merlin for a few moments before signaling to everyone that it was time to leave.

As he reached the door, he turned around one last time.

"You told me once that you wished to make your father proud. I know now that he was Balinor, the Dragonlord. After meeting the man myself and seeing the way he died, I hope you feel that you've proven yourself to him."

The king wasn't sure what kind of response he was looking for, but suddenly it seemed as though he were experiencing a flashback. With his beard, Merlin looked incredibly like his father, and for a moment, Arthur saw Balinor, not his son, turn his back on them in their time of need as they left without any hope.

Well, hopefully, the similarities between father and son would show through again and perhaps Merlin would come to his senses and join them soon. As he saw the sorrow and bitterness set in Merlin's features, this hope was all he had left. He turned and went out the door, followed by his loyal friends.

* * *

**Author's Note: So yeah, I tried to make some parallelism with Merlin and Balinor. Again, with the bitterness, just don't freak out too much over it. **

**And just a heads up, the next chapter, while not incredibly important to the story, is very emotional. I cried while writing it. Just FYI. **


	33. Chapter 32

**Author's Note: Hey there everyone, I am so sorry about the wait for this chapter! I was going to post earlier, but then my computer crashed and I almost lost everything I have written and it took two days to fix and honestly I was very traumatized over the well being of my computer and needed to make sure everything is working normally. So, again, sorry for the delay. I'll try not to take as long again. **

**And to just kind of address this issue: I have the next 5(?) chapters already written so far. I try to stay ahead so that I can update regularly (my computer crashing kind of stopped that from happening this time). No, I will not upload them all at once. I like knowing that I have a bit of a security blanket for my postings. **

**There was something else I was going to say, but I forgot what it was...**

**Again, I cried while writing this chapter. Enjoy!**

* * *

Merlin didn't watch as his friends left. Yes, he still considered them friends. And while he had no intention of going to catch up with them or join them on their way back to Camelot, he would not stand here idly and watch as Camelot fell. That promise he would keep.

Merlin stood up and stretched. There were people he needed to see and speak to. His months of hiding in the shadow of death were over.

* * *

He appeared on the outskirts of the old forest surrounding a small village. He kept his hood up, but had magicked off the beard so as to be more recognizable to the person he was about to meet for the first time in what felt like years. He knew that this meeting had to happen, but still he felt a pang of guilt and sorrow as he headed toward the hut he had in mind. No one else was out in the village, as it was late in the evening and there was no work that could be done in such darkness. It was a simple village, with a few fields, a couple of cows…

Finally he reached the familiar house that he had grown up in. He drew in a deep breath before knocking on the door. He was bid "enter," by a hollow and solemn voice that chilled him to bone.

Hunith was sitting beside the fire, staring into it, with a blanket wrapped loosely around her shoulders, despite the chill in the air. She didn't look up as he came in and shut the door behind him. Merlin stood there for a couple of minutes before trying to call her attention.

"Mother?"

The woman moved, ever so slowly, until her torso had turned in order to face her son. Merlin's heart broke as he took in her features; her face was gaunt and sunken, the sallow skin looking as though it hadn't seen sunlight in years. There were dark circles around her eyes, which in themselves held no spark that had formerly been there. They were dead and empty, and Merlin would have been surprised if she could even see anything beyond her obvious grief. Her hair was matted beneath her soiled bonnet, and her frame was so thin that it seemed that she hadn't eaten anything in months.

"Mother," Merlin started again, his voice cracking. Surely he hadn't been the cause of this broken woman who was once so strong…

"Who are you?" She asked, her voice forlorn and empty.

"Mother, it's me," he said, stepping forward and removed his hood. "Merlin."

"Merlin?" she asked, as though she didn't recognize the name. "Merlin. My son?"

"Yes," he said eagerly, now crouching before her and taking her hands in his. "It's me, Mother, see?"

She stared at him in confusion, not understanding anything being said to her.

"No," she whispered. "No, you're not Merlin. You look just like him though. They all do…"

"'They,' Mother?"

"Yes, the others. They all look like him, but then they disappear. I'm sure you will too, soon. It's okay. One day I'll follow you. One day I'll hold my boy in my arms again."

She turn away from him and gently pulled her hands out of his. The fire captivated her attention again.

"No, Mother, it's me, it's really me," Merlin pleaded, taking her hands again. He brought them up to his face, pressing her palm against his cheek. "See, it's me. I'm real, Mother. I'm right here."

She turn towards him again, the same look of confusion clouding her face.

"Merlin?"

"Yes, Mother, it's me, your son."

"No. No, my son died in battle, fighting for the King," a small smile twisted its way onto her sunken face. "He died a hero's death, my brave son. My brave, strong, courageous son."

"Mother?" Merlin was the one now confused.

"He died protecting his kingdom. Cendred was good king. Merlin was loyal to him till the end. I heard he even saved the King's life!" she let out a haunted laugh. "My son, a hero…"

And again she turned away from him and towards the fire, bringing her hands out of his. Tears were streaming down Merlin's face as he tried to understand what was happening. His mother had made up a story about his death, to better cope with the fact that he was gone. He was remembered and honored with a hero's virtue in her eyes, with no association to Camelot, not killed in a dishonorable execution like a common criminal.

"Mother," he reached up and caressed her cheek, and again she looked down at him.

"Mother, it's me. Merlin. I'm not dead, I'm alive and well. I'm here, see? I'm sorry, so sorry for what I put you through. It was safer for you this way, don't you see? I didn't want any harm to come to you, I was worried for you safety."

"Who are you? What are you talking about? Merlin is—" Her voice rose as she choked on the last word, "Dead."

"Shhh, no I'm not, I'm right here. See? Look, you can see me, you can touch me. I will never leave you like that again, Mother. Never. I'm right here and I promise I won't leave," his voice cracked.

"No, stop saying that! No, Merlin is gone, he died almost ten years ago! Stop trying to ruin his memory!" She was growing hysterical, her voice shrill and she stood.

"No, Mother, please," Merlin begged as he rose with her. "Mother, please, it's all right, I'm right here. Everything will be okay!"

"No!" she screamed, and started hitting him against his chest. He grabbed her by the shoulders, gently, and stared her in the eyes.

"Mother, stop, it's me, Merlin!" He started to pull her into a hug.

"No, no, no…" her cries became softer, her hits weaker. Finally she collapsed against him and started sobbing. Merlin held her to him tightly, sobbing with her. How could she have come to this…?

Soon Merlin felt her sobs lessen and she slumped in his arms. She had cried herself to sleep.

Gently, ever so gently, Merlin reached down and swept her legs out onto his arms, carrying to the bed, where he gently laid her down and pulled a blanket over her. She was too light for his liking. After he saw to her comfort, he grabbed a chair from the dining area of the hut and pulled it next to her bed. He sat there for hours, watching her sleep restlessly, until he too nodded off.

* * *

The next morning, Merlin was woken from his light and troubled sleep by the sound of rustling cloth nearby. Blinking blearily around, he saw that he was in his childhood home. The events from last night came flooding into his memory, and quickly he sat up, looking at the bed in front of him.

It was barely dawn, but the light was streaming in from the small window and onto his mother's face. He saw with some relief that at least the shadows beneath her eyes had lessened some with the night of sleep she got, but she still looked haunted, more like the ghost of his mother than the real thing.

She blinked as the light from the sun spilled across her face, waking her. She groaned slightly at the intrusion, but stretched her arms out above her head. Suddenly she froze, aware that she was not alone in the hut.

With faster motion than he thought possible for his mother, especially given her emotional state, she sat up and swiveled to face him. The dead look in her eyes from the night before was gone, and now there was a small spark of disbelief. They sat there together, mother and son, staring at each other for what felt like an eternity.

"Merlin?" she questioned hesitantly.

"Hello, Mother," he answered quietly.

She reached up to touch his face. He quickly grabbed her hand and pressed it to his cheek.

"It's really me, Mother."

Tears started spilling from her eyes as she caressed her son's face with her thumb. A smile, a real smile played across her mouth for the first time in half a year, and a small laugh even escaped her.

"Merlin," she rushed forward, wrapping the hand already touching her son around the back of his head, pulling him into a close and tight embrace, which he returned.

"Mother," he breathed as he too began to cry again. Together, they held onto each other as though letting go would mean death. They swayed back and forth under the force of their sobs, each disbelieving of the other's presence.

"I thought you were dead," she whispered, kissing his forehead. "I thought you had gone from this world, that I had outlived my own son."

"I'm so sorry, Mother. It would've been dangerous for you, too dangerous, if I had seen you. I'm so, so sorry."

"Shhh, that doesn't matter now, what matters is that you're here, you're alive, and we're together. Everything is okay now, I know it."

Merlin merely nodded and held on tighter to his mother. Finally he took a deep, steadying breath and pulled back, not letting go of her. He brushed the tears from her face and gave her a watery smile.

"I've missed you, Mother," he whispered.

"And I you, my son," she whispered back.

For a few minutes more they sat together in blissful peace as they relished in the company of the other.

"Where have you been?" she finally asked.

"A bit of everywhere, really. I haven't really stopped moving for long," he said.

"And what are you doing here?"

"Sorry?"

"You wouldn't have come here unless something changed, if something important had happened. Don't give me that look, it's not your fault, I understand," she said in response to his pained expression. "Just tell me what happened."

Merlin sighed, "Arthur found me. He asked for my help. Morgana is going to attack Camelot, and he fears that he cannot win without magic."

Hunith's face changed from one of confusion to concern and understanding.

"Well you must help them."

"But what about you?" He couldn't abandon her again. He didn't know if he would have the strength to leave her side once more.

"I'm fine, and now that I know you are too, I'll be even better," she offered a small smile.

"I can't leave you again," he said, caressing her cheek.

"Merlin, I'll be alright. Camelot needs you. They need your help. I know you will not leave them to fall to Morgana. _Go_," she urged.

Merlin closed his eyes and let a single tear fall as he rested his forehead against his mothers.

"I'll come back for you, you know that right?" he said after a long pause. "I'll never leave you to be alone again."

"Of course, my boy. Of course."

* * *

**Author's Note: Nope, still can't remember what I wanted to say. And sorry if I made anyone cry here, Hunith's chapters are really emotional, aren't they?**

**Also, some Mordred chapters are coming up. That's exciting. Don't worry, I haven't completely forgotten about him. **

**Ummm.. Oh. I think I wanted to address this too: Gaius does know that Merlin is alive, but he, like most other people close to Arthur, is still upset that Merlin is even presumed dead. He has to put on a bit of an act to make sure that Merlin's death is believable by everyone. **

**Yeah, still can't remember. Oh well. Maybe next time. **


	34. Chapter 33

**Author's Note: Hey there everyone. I feel like it's been a while for this chapter, sorry. Hope you all had a happy Easter (if you celebrate) and a happy and fun April Fools. **

**I don't feel like this is my best chapter ever, mainly because I wrote most of it at 1 AM a while ago. I've read it over, and I'm happy enough with it to publish it, but still, I think it could have been better. But yeah, here's the Mordred chapter I promised a while ago. It fits in here actually quite perfectly, so I'm happy about that. Finally you're getting his perspective on things. Don't worry, more of him to come. **

* * *

Mordred stood, overlooking the courtyard, awaiting the King, Queen, and knights' arrival back from their quest. He had heard that they set off searching for Emrys, under the impression that he could be found. Mordred knew better, but he could hardly tell the King that without betraying the role he had to play in his death.

* * *

_Mordred's eyes flashed gold as he pressed the King's hands over the pendant. His story about it belonging to his mother was completely improvised about ten minutes ago in preparation. He knew that Arthur was kind and trusting enough to accept the story without asking any questions._

_In actuality, the pendant was an old relic, only five were still accounted for. The Druids kept them in safekeeping, but Mordred had stumbled upon this one in his journeys once he left them. It was deep within the Crystal Cave that he found it, at the bottom of a long forgotten pool. He knew what they were used for; these pendants were once used by the Priests and Priestesses of the Old Religion to enchant someone to do the wielder's bidding, though only for a short amount of time._

_Mordred knew that Merlin would be dead by the time his enchantment wore off._

_Merlin. The name itself instilled a kind of anger and betrayal in Mordred. This man was supposed to help people like him. He was supposed to bring magic back; he was supposed to change the king's mind about magic. _

_He was supposed to protect them._

_And what had he done? _Nothing._ The man sat behind the king, cowering, sniveling, attending to Arthur's every whim, every wish. He was nothing to Mordred. Nothing. _

_And then he had had the audacity to try to kill one of his own all those years ago. Merlin – for he did not deserve the title of the revered Emrys – was a traitor to his own kind. Mordred had meant what he said to him at the time; he never forgave. He never forgot. _

* * *

Emrys' death was an act of pure selfishness, a fact that Mordred now understood, but, at first, had felt no regret over. All those years ago, when this fabled man tried to kill him, Mordred realized how traitorous the man was to his own kind. Mordred still trusted Arthur, but never his manservant. And for a while, Arthur seemed to trust him.

Everything changed, however, once Merlin died. Mordred had enchanted the King so as to get rid of an old personal enemy; he was never one to truly understand the prophesies that the Druids he grew up with seemed to revere and hold to. He knew of Emrys' destiny to some degree, but didn't understand it. How could one man be the one to bring all that is good and right back into the world?

After Merlin's death, Mordred had expected to find some inner peace; he had successfully killed a man who would have him dead. Even once Mordred swore his allegiance to Arthur and became a knight of Camelot, an action which he wholeheartedly felt at peace with, Merlin still seemed to have found reason to distrust him. In a place where Mordred had only wanted so desperately to be accepted and to feel like he belonged, the one man who could possibly understand him had only been cold to him.

Perhaps, if a hand of friendship, not a glare of distrust, had been offered to the young knight, Mordred would not have gone through with his revenge, or maybe even would have come to forgive the older man. He had never thought of exposing Merlin himself; he had his own secrets that Merlin knew about, and he feared that Merlin would retaliate. When Merlin himself revealed his own secret, Mordred knew that this was his only chance to get rid of his long time enemy. So he acted.

Yet, the feeling of peace never came. He had felt a definite lack of presence (physical and magical) the first few weeks, as though some strong force of light had abandoned the citadel. Never, though, came the contentment he had expected, and after a month of Merlin's absence, the young knight began to realize his mistake. The King seemed not to trust him anymore; the idea that he suspected Mordred's role in Merlin's death had made itself present in the knight's mind, but he tried to push thoughts like that aside. There were bigger issues to address in his mistakes. Prophesies were something not to be trifled with, and the story of Emrys' great power and fate, so intertwined with Arthur's, was something that should not have been as disregarded as Mordred had addressed it. He realized too late that he was playing with powers much too big or important for him to be tampering with. Yet he had had the _arrogance_ and _audacity_ to try. Now who knows who must suffer due to his actions...

He was brought out of his reverie by the sound of hoof beats clattering on the stone courtyard. The king had returned with all those he had left with, and… _was that Gwaine?_ Mordred, nor anyone in Camelot really, had seen the man since Merlin's death. What was he doing back in Camelot?

The party had gotten down from their horses and was already in the castle. Soon a guard came by and informed Mordred of a council meeting being held, with his presence specifically asked for.

Once he reached the council chambers, Mordred looked around. Almost all the other knights were already situated at the Round Table, and Gwaine had taken up his old seat, it having not been filled by a replacement in his absence. Mordred took his seat, and looked curiously towards his king, who seemed to be purposely avoiding his gaze at all costs. _Emrys is dead_, thought Mordred. _What happened in their journey? Whom did they encounter?_

Arthur started speaking, "As you may know, I and a few of the knights just returned from a quest to find a man who would have proven to be our savior. We sought out a man, a sorcerer, named Emrys. We sought his help and we even found him."

Mordred's heart nearly stopped and he felt his stomach plummet to the floor. They can't have found him, there must be some imposter out there…

"We pleaded with him for his help as we face the new threat of Morgana's magical army, for there is no way to fight magic without magic," the king sighed heavily. "But, it would seem, we must face Morgana on our own. I understand that this will be a difficult battle. I understand that not everyone may come out alive, and I understand that there is a high probability that we will in fact, lose this battle.

But we will go out fighting. Never can any force, take away our will to protect all that we stand for. No force can take away our pride in our home, and in that regard, we cannot lose. Start preparing for battle."

Mordred rose with the other knights, and left the chambers, deep in thought. Perhaps he hadn't ruined destiny as much as he thought he had…

* * *

As the knights, including Mordred, filed out of the room to prepare for the impending battle, Arthur turned to Gwaine, Leon, and Percival, who had remained behind.

"You watched him?"

"Yes, my lord," said Leon. "He was shocked."

"Shocked and terrified," growled Gwaine. "Little bugger thought he could just kill one of the best men in the kingdom and—"

"That's enough Gwaine," said the king. "We now know who and what we're dealing with."

Arthur had explained to the knights on the journey back from the Perilous Lands exactly who and what Mordred was. Arthur had been completely aware of the man's Druidic past, but, having made peace with the Druids, gave him the benefit of the doubt in an early attempt to show his will for change. He had believed, that by knowingly knighting Mordred, one day he could bring about a kind of peace that Camelot has not known for many years. How wrong he was…

The man betrayed him, or at least his own kind apparently. He had done his best to ensure Merlin's death, condemning himself and the kingdom to war and turmoil. Now Arthur was left to pick up the scraps and try to piece it back together again.

_Would be easier with Merlin…_ he thought. _No. No, I don't need him. He's moved on, he will not help us._

He took a deep breath before continuing, "Bring him here. I need to talk to him."

"Alone, Sire?" questioned Leon. "Is that wise?"

"You may be present if you wish, but do not interfere. I have very specific questions for him."

"Yes, Sire. Of course."

Leon and Percival left to go fetch the young knight.

* * *

**Author's Note: Okay, so I'm just gonna say: I'm not a big fan of evil Mordred. I really think that the way his betrayal was handled in the series was stupid and ridiculous and it just really bothered me. Everything about season 5 did, really (except Dolma). So yeah. More Mordred coming, but perhaps in a way you might not expect.**

**And again, I'll be the first to admit that this wasn't my best chapter. Hopefully it was still satisfying and answered some questions you still had. **


	35. Chapter 34

Gilli returned to his home where he lived alone with a basket full of herbs and vegetables. After the tournament in Camelot all those years ago, he had settled down in a small village where he began a modest life. He still had to keep his magic secret, especially since he had gotten the news.

Merlin was dead.

He couldn't believe it when he had heard; he sat in denial for a week. But slowly the realization had dawned on him. Arthur found out about his manservant. He found out about Merlin's magic and had proven himself to be no better than his father. After all the faith and trust Gilli saw that Merlin had put into the young king, this stab of betrayal hurt more than he thought it could. He had never even properly met King Arthur, yet he felt that Merlin's death was a personal blow to his heart.

And then there were the rumors. Merlin had been killed as an example. His death was a warning to anyone who dared practice magic that there was no escape. And thus Gilli felt the pain and weight of his friend's death. This man had shown him the way, taught him how to properly use his powers for good, and was murdered for his undoubtedly kind actions.

Merlin had believed that one day he and Gilli could walk as free men. Well, if that day ever came, Gilli would now be walking alone. Alone in fear, alone in freedom. There was no alternative for people like him, like them. They were doomed to a lonely life of fear and misery and pain. What, if any, relief that came would be weighted down with that knowledge. Those who had survived the Great Purge now live in fear and hiding; if they ever lived to see a time of freedom, they would live in the sorrow and remembrance of their fallen kin. Forever would they be alone.

There were other rumors out there as well; Lady Morgana, King Arthur's magical half sister, was raising an army. These rumors were just whispers that were hushed immediately. While people feared the King and his sudden harsh actions, they were terrified of Morgana. A rogue sorceress on the loose with the power to take over Camelot twice struck fear into the very soul of the strongest men. People had gone missing recently, from several villages and towns. No one knew what happened, there was never the sign of a struggle, and no indication left for where they might have gone.

All these people had been suspected of some sort of magic at one point in their life or another.

Gilli shuddered to think of what may be happening. He knew that they most likely did have magic, but he knew it was not the king who would seek them out. He knew that the one responsible must be Morgana, and if she was collecting magic users, all was not well. He had kept his head down and hasn't even touched his magic ring since Merlin's execution. Times were more dangerous than ever for people like him, but not only by those he had learned to fear. His own kind would seek him out and probably try to use him as a weapon against the king. He had had his chance to kill royalty in the past; while at the time he did his best to succeed in that, Merlin had shown him how wrong he was. Merlin was the voice of reason that saved him from a lifetime of regret and pain.

As he finally reached his small house, he pulled himself from his thoughts. There was no use anymore dwelling on Merlin and Morgana. He had resigned himself to a life of fear and hiding long ago, only to renew it with Merlin's execution.

He pulled open his door and stopped immediately. He could sense another magical presence in his home. There was someone else there.

He dropped his basket and pulled out his knife defensively. "Who's there?" he called, trying to sound stronger than he felt.

A small fire seemed to light itself in the fire pit, and a hooded figure rose from a chair.

"Who are you?" Gilli demanded. "What do you want?"

A rough but familiar sounding voice answered, "We both know you don't need a knife to defend yourself, Gilli."

"Show yourself," said Gilli wearily, eyeing the figure with apprehension and confused hope. There was no way that voice could be speaking to him.

Slowly the figure reached up and pulled off his hood. Merlin revealed his face and smiled.

"It's been a long time, Gilli."

Gilli didn't drop his knife. If anything, he was holding it tighter, mentally preparing for any attack he might need to strike with.

"…What are you?" he asked, fear clouding his voice. He had heard of the dark art of necromancy, but few had ever dared perform such dark magic.

"It's me, Gilli, I promise," said Merlin. "I'm here, alive and well as can be after living on the run for six months."

Gilli shook his head. "No, no it can't be. Merlin's dead. That treacherous king he believed in so much killed him. I'm sure all Merlin did was save his life, again, but Merlin's gone."

"A good enough sorcerer doesn't have much trouble faking their own death," said Merlin softly. Then he added with a chuckle, "and yes, all I had done was save his life again."

Gilli stared at the man in front of him a few moments longer, deciding whether to trust him or not.

"Prove it."

Merlin sighed, and brought up his fist to his mouth. With a whispered word, he stepped forward and held out his hand. A small flame danced upon his palm as Gilli stared in wonder.

"You entered an open tournament in Camelot about four years ago. You were injured in the first round, but you won, using magic. Some guards then saw you use magic to heal yourself, but you were able to get away. I tried to convince you to withdraw from the tournament, but you were suddenly getting the respect you've been denied as a sorcerer. I used this spell to show you that you were not alone in the world; people like us live all over, just in hiding. I used magic to ensure that you lost to the King and didn't kill him."

Gilli stared at the flame in Merlin's hand. He had never told anyone about what happened to him in Camelot, never mentioned Merlin, and kept his magic as secret as he could. No one in the village he lived in now knew about his ring or his life before he came here.

"Merlin?" he asked tentatively, looking back up at his face.

Merlin smiled, "It's good to see you. I told you our paths would cross again."

Gilli dropped his knife and came forward, engulfing his friend in a hug.

"I thought you were dead! That's what everyone's been saying, that the King's manservant was executed. So he found out? How are you still alive? What are you doing here? I don't understand."

"Yes, Arthur found out. He sentenced me to death, but before you go making any judgments, hear me out. Arthur wasn't in his right mind when he sentenced me, he was enchanted. There's a sorcerer within the ranks of the Knights of Camelot, who has a personal vendetta against me. He wanted me gone, I suppose, and made the king kill me. And like I said, it doesn't take much for a skilled sorcerer to fake his own death. Just a series of potions protected me from the flames. I've been hiding out these past six months, trying to stay out of sight. And… I'm here because I need your help."

Gilli gestured for Merlin to sit for him to continue. He picked up his basket and took it to the table where began chopping the vegetables for dinner with the same knife he had just threatened Merlin with.

"What do you need my help for?"

Merlin shifted slightly before answering, "I need you to help me gather a small…group of people for me. I know you're going to have mixed feelings about the reasoning behind this, but please just listen first." He took a deep breath before continuing, "Morgana has gathered an army of sorcerers. She means to attack Camelot and take over the throne once again. I cannot let that happen, so I have decided to create an army of my own, one that can challenge Morgana's and defeat her. I need help to go around find and convince other sorcerers and magic users to join me. I have some people in mind, but I need help."

Gilli stopped chopping and set his knife down. He looked up in Merlin in astonishment and confusion.

"You want to _protect_ Camelot still? You want to keep Arthur, the man who had you _killed_, on his throne?"

"Yes," said Merlin seriously. "You know as well as I do that Morgana's reign will not be one of peace and freedom like she promises. She is greedy and vengeful, only wanting to keep herself in power for the sake of power. You will not be any safer with her ruling Camelot. She will use you as a tool of fear, imposing her will upon those of the kingdom. Her reign would most likely not last more than a year, and when it falls, all those who used magic to do her bidding will be hunted with a force greater than that, perhaps, of even the Purge. Arthur does not wish for people like us to live in hiding any longer, he wants to change the laws. Not only is it my destiny to protect that arrogant prat, but to also pave the way for magic to be reintroduced into the lands. Even if it wasn't my destiny, I forgave him months ago for my execution and I still consider him a friend."

Gilli gaped. None of this made sense to him; how could Merlin just forgive Arthur so easily? How could he want to help this man? He understood and believed everything he said about Morgana, but how on earth could he be expected to help a man who had persecuted and hunted him and his kind? Nothing made sense as he tried to grasp at what Merlin was saying.

"I know it's a lot to take in all at once," said Merlin. "And I'm sorry that I turned up out of nowhere and suddenly asked you to do so much for me. I know it's hard, but please. You know what the right thing to do is. Don't let Morgana win this fight, and if you do nothing, that's the same thing."

Gilli looked up. He saw Merlin's hopeful and pleading expression, begging for his help. He couldn't just leave his friend to face this alone. He broke out into a grin.

"So where do we start?"

* * *

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! I've gotten pretty bad at realizing when I last post on here, so I'm sorry if it seems like they're taking longer than usual. I've just been really busy with schoolwork and trying to sleep and such. Don't worry, I won't stop writing this, and I'll try to update roughly once a week. **

**Also, shoutout to whoever reviewed this way back in about Chapter 20 and called Gilli coming back. This was my plan all along, and it kind of made me happy when someone suggested it in a review. Kudos to you anonymous reviewer who wasn't anonymous but I'm to lazy to go back and find your comment. Thanks!**

**So yeah, now you have a bit of Merlin's plan. I love Gilli and wish that they had brought him back for some episode in the end. *sigh* There are so many things I wish they had done with the final season...**

**Sorry to keep moaning about that. I'll try to shut up about it. **


	36. Chapter 35

**Author's Note: Wow, okay, sorry. That was a super long wait. Again, I've been really busy getting school papers done and stuff. I'll try to keep up with regular updates, but testing is coming up in May, and I will have to probably put this on pause until that's all done with. I'll still try to write when I can though, so don't give up. **

**But, on plus side, here's a super long chapter for you. Some of the next few ones are a bit on the shorter side, but this one is nice and lengthy. **

* * *

"Mordred!"

The young knight turned around. Leon and Percival were coming towards him, looking determined.

"Hello," he greeted them.

"The King wishes to speak with you, right away," said Percival, glowering at him.

_The King? What does he want? Does he suspect me in having part in Merlin's death? Merlin didn't have any idea about that, did he? No. Merlin is dead. I know he is dead, there is an imposter of Emrys out there that they found. It's probably nothing…_

By the time they reached the throne room again, Mordred had exhausted all ideas about what this could be about. Unless the King wanted him for a special mission or patrol, there was nothing he could think of, but Leon's and Percival's dark expressions worried him.

As they walked in, the King was sitting, stoically, upon his throne, with Guinevere by his side, as it should be. Gwaine also stood off to the corner, a dark expression clouding his usually carefree face.

Mordred realized that he was not being requested to join the king. He was being escorted to him.

Leon and Percival stood off a little ways as Mordred stood in front of Arthur, bowing in respect.

"My lord?"

Arthur sat still for a few moments longer, before he got up and wandered to the window.

"Mordred. Mordred… You know, there was once a young Druid boy I helped to smuggle out of Camelot quite some years ago," he started, not looking back at the shocked knight. "Funny, that you two should have the same name, no?"

"M- My lord, I—"

"Such an uncommon name, for two people to both be 'Mordred,'" he now turned to face him. "I know that you and the young boy I saved are the one and the same. I know that you are, or at least were, a Druid."

Mordred paled visibly. "Arthur, I—"

"I knighted you with that knowledge, Mordred. I knew that you were a Druid, that you probably possessed some magic. I was willing to accept you, Mordred, to let you prove my views on magic wrong."

Guilt and pain flashed across Mordred's face. "Arthur, please—"

"Did you know? About Merlin?"

"I- Yes, my lord, I did," he said, looking at the ground to avoid all eye contact. He could feel the other knights' glares boring into him.

"Why did you say nothing? I asked if anyone knew."

"To… explain how I knew about him would have revealed my own secret, Sire. I feared for what would happen to Merlin, yet fear for myself overwhelmed my concern for him."

Arthur stood quietly for a few stretched seconds before addressing the young man again.

"And yet, you were so quick and harsh in your advice. You urged me to execute him."

Mordred wasn't even sure if he was breathing anymore. He had overlooked that flaw in his lie, and now it was proving to be his downfall. He didn't dare say anything lest his voice betray him.

"Mordred?" prompted the King. "What do you know of Emrys?"

Mordred suddenly snapped up his head, surprised and slightly relieved at the apparent change in topic.

"He is said to be the most powerful sorcerer in the world," he said cautiously before deciding to continue. "There are many… prophesies concerning him."

"And what do these prophesies say?" asked the King.

"That he is meant to protect and help rule with the Once and Future King, to… bring magic back to the lands and help to bring the golden age of Albion."

"And why did you deem it necessary to have this man killed?"

If Mordred was pale before, he was positively white now. His form was frozen and trembling, his eyes holding the terror of a cornered rabbit. When he spoke, his voice sounded choked and forced, shaking under the strain of trying to keep it steady.

"M- My Lord? I- I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Oh, I think you understand me perfectly, Mordred," said the king, advancing and glowering towards the shaking knight. "You know who Emrys is, Mordred. So why did you do your best to ensure his death?"

"I- I don't underst—"

"Damn it, Mordred, stop lying to me!" Arthur yelled, slamming his fist down on the arm of his throne, causing Guinevere and Mordred to jump slightly. "I've had it with the lies from sorcerers in my own castle. Now tell me, dammit, why you killed Emrys."

"I didn't mean to!" He burst out suddenly. He couldn't keep up these pretenses, he couldn't help the words spilling from his mouth.

"The hell you didn't, Mordred. You enchanted me to kill him, you know it!"

"I- well, yes, I did, but-"

"Mordred…" Arthur glared menacingly at him.

"I didn't realize the consequences of my actions!" he burst. "He's wanted me dead for years! He tried to kill me when I was child. Do you know what that's like? To have the man you've heard all these great stories and legends about look at you with nothing but distrust? To have your hero actively try to ensure your own death? I was angry, I had never forgiven him. I didn't realize what I was doing, but now I'm starting to understand I was messing with things beyond me. I fear what consequences I've brought forth from my selfish acts, but it's not something I can change. Emrys is d- dead, and it's my fault and I wish I could go back and stop myself from ever—"

By the end of his outcry Mordred was crying, breaking down in front of his fellow knights. He was so lost, so confused. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could say that would convince the others in the room of his remorse. He was shaking and crying and suddenly couldn't look at any of them.

They watched in silence as Mordred stared at the ground in shame, crying and trying to compose himself. When the sound of his sobs lessens to a small sniffling, Arthur stepped forward.

"Well you should know that your previous efforts were in vain. We found him. We found Emrys, alive and well. He's still out there."

Mordred snapped his head up, "He's… alive?"

"Yes."

Mordred stared at him with a skeptical look. "Then who is he? If you found him alive, you would have realized his other name. Did you really find…?"

"Merlin. Yes. He is living in the Fisher King's lands. We found and spoke with him."

"But he wouldn't come back?"

Arthur looked away with a pained expression. "No, but I'm sure he has his reasons."

"He'll come back."

Arthur turned back to face the young knight. Merlin's words echoed through his mind, _I have had my glimpse into the future, and the young knight is destined to play a significant role in your death. _What role would he play? Would it be indirect? Would he strike the final blow? How? He looked so lost, so searching, begging for forgiveness. Arthur saw the pure regret and pleading in his eyes, saw that it was genuine. But how could he trust this? Could he trust him? Could he trust Merlin? He hadn't elaborated on anything really, just left his warning at that. They had all been occupied with the fact of Merlin's life to go back to the previous conversation.

And then he felt another pang of guilt. Merlin's speech about fear swirled around in his head. Did Mordred feel that too? But he was a Druid, he had already sworn to protect those people. The image of Mordred's fear and trembling when Arthur called him out just several minutes ago for having magic was enough to destroy that notion. He still feared Arthur, still feared those around him despite having the King's protection due to his background. There was a long way to go before they had any real progress in reintroducing magic to Camelot.

"What are you talking about?" Arthur asked.

"Merlin would never leave Camelot. He will come. He won't let the kingdom fall, he's put in too much, sacrificed too much for him to abandon… us."

"And what would you know of Merlin's sacrifices?"

"As much as any magic user in the kingdom could know. Many regard him as a traitor to his own kind, protecting you and hiding all the while. He's lost so many people he loved for this kingdom. Destiny always demands a heavy price for fulfillment."

Arthur's brow furrowed in concerned confusion. Who had died, who had his friend lost? Arthur remembered Will, his friend from Ealdor. Merlin had briefly mentioned his father dying after knowing him for only a couple days. Who else was there? Who had to die to ensure that his servant's destiny would not be in vain?

And to be regarded by his own kind as a traitor… How lonely was Merlin? He hadn't had anyone he really confided in within the walls of Camelot. If he really had no one else outside that understood him… How could someone live with that kind of burden? How could someone live with that kind of loneliness?

Arthur sighed, trying to push those thoughts from his mind. "Well from what he told us, and his attitude, we have to cope without him. And… I'm sorry Mordred. You have proven yourself untrustworthy. Your actions, no matter how much you may claim to regret them now, were treasonous. You used your magic on me, against a specific person with the intent to kill. I cannot let that pass. I do not want you dead, no matter what warnings I've been given about you. I'm giving you a chance to prove yourself. Thus, I banish you from Camelot, upon pain of death should you return. You have until nightfall to collect your things and leave."

As Mordred's sentence was revealed, the knight in question felt a great pressure being forced upon his chest, to the point where he almost started having trouble breathing. Nothing registered in his mind anymore; his life had finally found meaning again, now only to be taken from him. He was nothing, he didn't have a home anymore. He was alone. More alone than he'd been lately and he had no idea what to do now. He became vaguely aware that Arthur had dismissed him but he couldn't move. Shock and shame clouded his vision, took over his mind. He felt a hand on his shoulder—

His head snapped up again. He was looking into the kings sympathetic yet cold eyes. He had no business here anymore. He was dismissed.

"Thank you, for your mercy, My Lord," he barely whispered, offering a stiff and jerked bow. Quickly he turned and left the room containing his last hope for a steady life.

* * *

Nightfall would be in three hours. He had gathered all he could and left as soon as possible. He had no idea where to go. Just out. Out of Camelot. Out of his new family. Gone.

He simply rode. He rode far away from the shining citadel of hopes. He rode far into the unknown forest, not knowing, not caring where he would end up.

Soon, however, he realized that he should have paid more attention, as his horse pulled up face to face with someone he had never wished to see again.

"Hello, Mordred," crooned Morgana. "It's been too long."

* * *

**Author's Note: I may or may not have a horrible addiction to writing cliffhangers for the ends of chapters. **


	37. Chapter 36

**Author's Note: Hey everyone! I feel like this is the longest I've gone without an update, and for that, I apologize. This last month has been super busy with IB testing and such, but I just took my last one today and now I have some free time! I'll try to keep regular, once a week postings from now on. Thank you for sticking with this story! And thank you for all your reviews as well, they're greatly appreciated.**

**Additional AN: Sorry, I had to take this chapter down and repost it. The author's note was supposed to be in the beginning but got stuck in the middle somehow. Oops...**

* * *

Merlin made his way to the small island where traders in exotic goods and rare treasures went to stay away from prying eyes. Merlin had heard that this was where he could find his next ally, or at least where he could find information.

Ignoring the stalls of expensive furs and enticing incense, he went to the center of the island, where the Catha were known to be. Merlin, while not having a way of reaching Alator, knew that he would not be unwelcome.

The tattooed guard at the door stared at him as Merlin asked for Alator. The man said nothing, towering over the scraggly sorcerer. A voice came through from the back.

"Let him through. He is welcome."

The man glowered a moment longer before reluctantly moving off to the side. He passed through into a cool, dimly lit room where the scent of incense burning enveloped his senses.

"Emrys," said Alator, kneeling before Merlin.

"Please, Alator, that's really not necessary," muttered Merlin, self-conscious.

"It is an honor to meet with you again, Emrys," said Alator, rising and gesturing for him to sit beside him on the ground amongst the lighted candles. "To what do I owe such an encounter?"

Merlin looked at the man in front of him, sizing up his true loyalty.

"You said once, Alator, that you, and potentially others, would gladly give your lives for the future I am trying to build."

"Aye, and I stand by that promise."

"Good. Because I'm here to take you up on it."

* * *

Gilli had finally reached the town that Merlin had described to him. He was to find a woman, renown for her healing skills through the art of magic.

Though that second part wasn't as well known, having to hide in the shadows like all other sorcerers.

He entered the tavern and requested a place to stay. As the inn keeper handed him the keys to his room, he asked, "What do you know of a woman, named Alice?"

"The healer?" asked the inn keeper gruffly.

"Yes," said Gilli hopefully. "Do you know where I can find her?"

"'Fraid not," answered the man. "Haven't seen 'er in years. You could try askin' that lot over there. They come from the next town over, they may have 'eard somethin'."

Gilli nodded his thanks and walked over to the small group, easily the quietest in the whole tavern.

"Excuse me," he said. "I'm looking for someone, do you think you could—"

"Go away, boy," growled one of the men.

"Sorry, I'm just looking for-"

"I said, go away," the man stood up, glaring at Gilli.

"Come on Tom, leave the boy alone. He's not worth your time," said one of the others. He then turned towards Gilli, "You best be off now. We don't know anyone you're looking for."

He reached up and pulled Tom back into his seat by the arm. Tom grudgingly turned away and tried to ignore Gilli.

Gilli refused to give up.

"Alice. A healer. I'm looking for Alice," he stated quickly before they had the opportunity to interrupt him again.

The men all froze and Tom snapped his head toward Gilli. "What do you want with that witch?"

"Witch? No, I just have a personal message to give her," said Gilli. He and Merlin had planned for whatever circumstances they could think of to get Gilli to personally meet with her. Merlin thought it would be best if Gilli was the one to find her, given her past with Merlin.

"What is it, boy? I'll make sure it's given to her," said the man who had first calmed Tom down.

"So you do know where to find her?" prompted Gilli, causing Tom and the others to glare at the man, one of them smacking him upside the head.

"And what of it?" demanded Tom, deciding to take his comrade's blunder in stride.

"It's important that I tell her this message, sir. It's an extremely personal and private matter."

"Rest assured, you can trust us to deliver it when we see her next," growled Tom. "What's the message?"

"Please, I need to speak to her personally. She would appreciate if such a… delicate matter was delivered to her in person," Gilli was trying to make the lie as convincing as possible. "Just tell me where I can find her. Please."

The men stared at him, then resumed their original huddle. Finally the man who had let slip their connection stood up.

"You'll come with us, boy, if it's so important for you to meet her. We leave in the morning at first light, don't be late."

"Thank you," said Gilli, relieved.

The next morning found Gilli outside the tavern, mounting his saddle a little ways off from a group of four men. He had discovered that the man who had let slip their knowledge of Alice's name was named Markus. There was also James and Owyn, though they stayed pretty quiet throughout the day.

"Oi, you! You coming or not?" called Tom, scowling in Gilli's direction.

"Coming!"

They rode for several hours, and over the border into a northern kingdom. Gilli was just starting to wonder when they would reach their destination or at least stop for lunch, when they rode into a city.

"Welcome to Odin's kingdom, boy," said Tom. "This is as far as we'll take you. You have to find the witch from here on your own. Last I heard, this was where she was. Who knows now, eh?" He and the others left laughing at Gilli's expense.

Gilli sighed and brought his horse up to the nearest inn. Who knows how long he'll stay there in this city? He might as well prepare for at least a night or two.

He started asking around the city about a healer, not daring to give her name. He didn't want to cause her any trouble if someone started to suspect her of magic. After half a day's worth of no luck, he headed back to the inn. As he was walking up the stairs to his room he passed a door left ajar and voices coming from it, catching his attention.

"No, I'm sorry, I don't have the skill to heal this…"

"Then who does?"

"They say there's a woman, just outside the city limits, who can heal most anything. Name's Alice. Secretive, doesn't leave her house much. No one knows much about her, just that she's good at what she does."

"You hear about that boy wandering around town today? Askin' about a healer? Think he meant her?"

"Maybe, but no one's going to help him. They're all too scared of her to do anything. They say she has magic. That's how she heals all those people who are seemingly hopeless. If you want, she lives 'bout an hour's ride east of here. But you didn't hear it from me."

"Thanks, but I'll try somewhere else. I don't trust any witches."

There was the scraping of a chair across the floor and footsteps coming towards the door. Gilli scrambled away from the door as quickly as he could, trying to make it look like he was already walking down the hall a little ways before they came out of the room. Two men walked out, one in a dark hooded cloak covering his face, presumably afflicted with whatever malady the other could not fix.

When he finally entered his room, it took all of Gilli's determination to not whoop and jump for joy. His day of riding and searching had not been in vain. He could now find and talk to Alice. It would all be okay from here on out.


	38. Chapter 37

Mordred woke groggily with a throbbing headache. The pain in his head soon spread to the rest of his body, and he became all too aware of the invading reality in his world of sleep. He realized that he was tied sitting to a pole, with his hands bound behind him and his legs, also bound, stretched out in front of him. The last thing he could remember was running across Morgana in the woods after Arthur had banished him. Arthur had banished him…

His head swam as he tried to come up with the strength to open his eyes. The darkness at least was still blissful and no intrusive light was aggravating his head. He heard a rustling to his right, and, still playing dead, he tried to center his thoughts solely on that.

"Oh, come now, Mordred," a familiar voice crooned. "We both know that you're awake. Come, get up. Face the day, it's quite beautiful outside. Well, not that you'll be seeing it today."

Reluctantly resigning himself to furthering his headache and lowering his dignity, he brought his head up and cracked open his eyes in the direction of the voice and rustling.

Morgana stood over him, peering into his face with mock concern and amusement.

"Ah, there we are. Good morning, dear. Well, afternoon, really. You slept the whole day away," she said softly, brushing the back of her knuckles against his cheek. "But don't worry, you haven't missed much. There's not really much for you to miss. But you will be involved in the rest, dear. Don't you fret about that."

Mordred shuddered as far away from her as he could, but his tight bindings didn't let him get very far.

"Shh," she whispered. "Shh, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. Well, not yet. That's up to you, I suppose."

Mordred refused to dignify her with an answer. Whatever game she was playing, he wasn't going to go along with it. She seemed to guess this from his defiant glare.

"Oh, yes, Mordred. You are essential to my plan. And you will play your part correctly. You don't need to worry about your silly _loyalties_ to the king or anyone. That will take care of itself. But for now…"

She placed her hand over his forehead. He could barely make out certain words of the Old Religion before falling back into his world of darkness.

* * *

**Author's Note: So I know a lot of you didn't like the idea of Morgana turning Mordred evil, I really don't think Mordred would have turned evil on his own. The show made it really absurd in my opinion, and there really is no reason for Mordred to want to kill Arthur. Arthur saved his life when he was little; he's shown him mercy and treated him like an equal. Having an outside influence on Mordred's actions (like Morgana) I feel is the best way to go about this part of the story. Sorry.**


	39. Chapter 38

The next morning Gilli took his horse from the stable and rode east of the city, in the hopes of finding Alice. The overheard instructions were helpful to a point, but the forest was large and anticipation seems to have a strange effect on the passing of time.

After what must have been an hour but felt like at least three, Gilli came upon a small hut. There wasn't much for it to boast; there was a modest herb garden, a low stone wall encasing the edges of the property, and a small house with a door made of animal skin. The garden seemed well kept and, upon further inspection, absolutely full with herbs and plants and _magic_.

Gilli tied his horse to a nearby tree, and cautiously walked up to the door flap. He felt more nervous than he had reason to, with his heart thumping in his chest and he worked to school his expression to one of neutrality.

"Hello?" he called through the flap, lightly knocking on the actual hut. "Hello, is anyone in there?"

The silence that greeted him stretched into minutes before Gilli decided to poke his head through the flap. He barely got a glimpse of tables full of vials and cauldrons before a sharp pain invaded his head and his ears rang with the sound of a pot clanging led him into darkness.

* * *

Gilli groaned.

His head was throbbing, there was a distinct ringing in his ears, and he couldn't, for the life of him, remember what happened. Trying to remember only worsened the headache, so he gave up trying to recall the memory all together.

"Ah, good, you're up. I was worried that I had been a bit too enthusiastic with my pot."

Gilli snapped his eyes open, only to squeeze them shut again and groan against the invasive light streaming across his face.

"Take it easy, boy. Nothing to worry about. I was just startled when you came, is all. Haven't had many visitors of… well… friendly intent, in some time."

He became aware of other noises that were accompanying the voice and the ringing. There was a tinkle of glass against glass, the grinding of stones, and a crackling fire in the background and becoming more apparent as the ringing went down.

"Here, take this," said the kindly, motherly voice as a small flask was gently pushed into his hand. He realized that he had not reopened his eyes yet, and, slowly this time, opened them.

An old woman, with a kind, round face sat above him, looking down. She wore a small, but regretful smile and her hair was pulled back into a long, grey plait. Her dress implied a simple and humble life, and all around her in the house were things moving.

The mortar was grinding itself; there was a cauldron in the fire with a spoon stirring in midair; chimes and charms were hanging from the ceiling, accompanied by several types of herbs and roots. There was a strange feeling about the place, even if one disregarded the enchanted objects.

It was as if the hut was alive.

Gilli turned his attention back the woman as she turned and bustled about the small hut, checking on whatever was in the cauldron and with nothing more than a small glance, the fire around it died down to the coals. Gilli, while having magic himself, never had much of a chance to see it being used so casually. This woman's audacity surprised him.

"Well drink up, boy, I'm supposing you have at least some of a headache, haven't you?" she scolded, looking his way again. Gilli looked down at the drink in his hand before taking a sip. Immediately he spat out the vile tasting concoction, pulling a face of disgust.

"Well, what did you expect, wine?" she asked with an amused smirk on her face. "Best drink it all in one go, I have some water here for you to wash it down with."

Gilli downed the rest of the potion in one large gulp, shuddering at the taste and texture that invaded his body. Reaching for the flask of water that had been placed by bed, he took the chance to study the woman some more. This had to be the Alice that Merlin had sent him to find. Everything about her fit.

"Are you Alice?" he asked tentatively, after drinking the entire glass of water.

The woman froze. The hut around her froze as well, as all the various supplies stilled from their magical movements.

"And what makes you say that, love?" she asked with a shaky laugh. The objects around resumed their actions and her hands shook as she continued to grind the mortar. "Haven't heard too much about me, eh? Word about me getting out?"

"No, no," said Gilli hastily. "It's just that I was sent to find you. M- Emrys sent me. We need you."

"Emrys?" she questioned, turning around to face Gilli. "What does the almighty Emrys need with me? I'm just an old woman, trying to mind my own business and not get noticed. What does he want?"

"He needs your help. We need your help. Camelot is in danger, the future of Albion is at risk."

"That doesn't explain what he wants with me."

"We are expecting a great battle. We need healers, people we can trust to care for the wounded."

"There are a great many other physicians around, why don't you go bother them?"

"Gaius will be there."

This left her speechless. Her face had frozen in the shock that had been delivered to her. She finally found her voice again.

"How do you—"

"He is still in Camelot and he is helping the king. We intend to join forces with them against Morgana, but Gaius will need help. We will all need help. It does not matter how I know, but that you come."

Gilli waited patiently for her response. Merlin had instructed him to only bring up Gaius if it appeared that she would not be persuaded to join them. He knew that any chance for her to see Gaius would be irresistible, and she would not refuse.

Alice closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Gilli smiled as he saw the resignation in her expression, knowing that he had won. Finally she nodded her consent.

"Good," he said. "We leave to meet with Emrys tonight."

* * *

**Author's Note: Hello again. So this chapter felt a bit rushed toward the end, but I really had trouble actually writing Gilli's story. This took me a couple weeks to finish actually, even though it's not that long. I think it was since we only had one episode of Gilli, there wasn't much given about him that I could work with. Same with Alice, so if they seem a little OOC, yeah. Sorry. **

**Anyway, next chapter, back to Merlin and what he's doing. Talk to you all next week!**


	40. Chapter 39

**Author's Note: THERE IS A VERY IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE END OF THIS CHAPTER, PLEASE READ IT. **

* * *

Merlin had left Alator to find people on his own. He knew he could trust the man to convince enough people to create an army large enough to provide some challenge to Morgana, even if they were still vastly outnumbered. Merlin had just one more visit to make before heading back to Gilli's village to meet with him and Alice.

The Druids were always a secretive group. It would be difficult for anyone to find them on their own, and impossible if they were just wandering around, lost, in the woods. They were a peaceful people, and Merlin knew that nothing he said to them could convince any of them to join in his fight, but that was not why he was seeking them out in the first place.

He knew that while they wouldn't partake in the actual fighting, their kindness and protective instincts would allow them to help in a different way. Merlin and Gilli would need healers for all the wounds and casualties expected, and while Alice was exceptionally skilled in her practice, one physician was not enough. Together, Alice and the Druid healers could train, exchange ideas and techniques, overall become stronger in their art.

The Druids could also provide magical protection. There were no others so skilled in protective magic than they. Whether it be in charms or some kind of magical wall to protect them from Morgana's troops, they could provide the protection against minor magical injuries that would cripple his already undersized army.

Merlin's musings came to pause when he began to hear the sound of children's laughter. Smiling to himself, he continued on toward the sound. Soon, he came across a group of five children, laughing as they ran around playing tag. They fell silent as he neared, and stared after him when he passed. The Druids did not receive many visitors, and Merlin was sure that they were informing their camp of a new arrival through their mind speech.

Sure enough, when Merlin finally reached the edge of the camp, a group of elders had already assembled to greet him. Upon seeing his face and sensing his power, they realized who he was and immediately they bowed in respect.

"Welcome, Emrys," said the man in the center, presumably the leader. "I am Tyrdoc, here at your service. We humbly welcome you to our camp."

"Thank you," said Merlin. "Please, stand, there is no need for that." He gestured to their submissive positions.

Tyrdoc rose and looked at him with a strange glint in his eyes, as if evaluating him. This was only for a moment, though, and he returned to a pleasant smile.

"To what do we owe this honor?" he asked.

"I come seeking your help," said Merlin. "Please, may we sit and speak?"

Tyrdoc nodded and gestured for Merlin to follow him. The camp watched from the background and lowered their heads in respect as Merlin passed by. They reached a tent in the center of the camp, and Tyrdoc opened the flap to allow Merlin in first. They sat down and Merlin offered a small smile before giving an explanation.

"As you may realize, Camelot is on the brink of war. Morgana and her magical army are set upon destroying the kingdom and taking over."

"Yes, that is what we have heard and seen through the seers," said Tyrdoc wearily. "We have not offered her any assistance, nor have any Druids responded to her call to arms for all magical persons."

"Good," said Merlin, nodding. "I thank you for not taking her side. However, I fear that I may be met with the same response to my petition."

"And what exactly is that?"

"I know the Druids are a peaceful people," started Merlin. "You do not fight and seek no battles. I understand and respect this aspect of your live, Tyrdoc. I do not wish to upset your traditions.

"I do, however, seek your help in the context of battle. I'm not asking you or any of your people to fight, but I am asking for support from the Druids, in protection and healing powers in the battle and war to come."

Tyrdoc studied him for a few moments, his face unreadable.

Finally he answered, "It is not within Druid custom to take such a stance in any battle. Never have our people taken a part as large as this in any war."

"I realize this," said Merlin. "I understand if you refuse, but this battle is important to the future of Albion; the protective spells and medicinal aid that you could provide for us could be the difference between winning and losing the war to Morgana. Please, this is so much more than just a mere battle."

Again, the Druid leader took his time in answering, and when he did, it was not what he expected to hear.

"I suppose they found you, then? The knights?"

Merlin blinked. "What?"

"They came here, seeking information to find out where you were. I helped them in the only way I knew how. I directed them to the lands of the Fisher King. I take it they found you?"

Merlin seemed slightly taken aback. "You're how they found me? You've spoken to them?"

"Yes, Emrys, and I know and understand this war that you speak of all too well. It has been foretold in prophesies past; that this is the final battle to decide Albion's fate. You must not lose this battle, Emrys, no matter what the cost."

"I understand this, that is why I'm here. I need all the help and support I can get. Please," he begged. "Please, I cannot do this alone."

"Yet I cannot lead my people to death, Emrys. And anywhere on a battlefield will surely lead to that," Tyrdoc argued. "I will not order my people to follow you."

Merlin felt his body sag. The loss of Druid support was a heavy blow to his battle plans. The extra protection and medical aid would be crucial to even a chance of victory in the battle to come, yet it was being denied.

"I understand," sighed Merlin heavily. "Thank you for your time." He made to get up and leave.

"Though I will not order my men and women to follow you," said Tyrdoc as Merlin turned away towards the tent flap, "I will tell them about this plea for help, and give them the option to follow you. Do not expect all of them to take it, but I am sure that some undoubtedly will."

Merlin whipped around and stared at Tyrdoc incredulously, gaping. He composed himself again when he registered the older man's amused look, but was still shocked.

"You'll still offer help?"

"Yes, but again, do not expect everyone to jump to your side at a simple word. It is their choice and their individual choice alone. The Druids will not act upon this as a people."

Merlin huffed out a small laugh and smiled. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Merlin sat back down with Tyrdoc and discussed his plans, telling him where to send those who wished to help, and what sort of aid he was looking for.

Merlin's army was coming together.

* * *

**Author's Note: So here's Merlin's army, more or less. I know that I've been dragging this out a bit, but soon we'll get to the action, I promise.**

**HOWEVER **

***IMPORTANT STUFF, PLEASE READ THE REST OF THIS***

**I have a very busy schedule coming up. I'm starting work at a summer camp next weekend, which will mean very limited internet/computer access. Thus, I will not have a lot of time for writing or posting chapters. I have most the next chapter written, but it's still in the process. I promise that when I can, I will be working on this story and posting as often as possible, but please expect irregular updates throughout the summer and maybe some rather short chapters. I'm really sorry about this; when I started writing it I expected to be done by now but it's become so much more than I thought. Thank you, and sorry about this. I will post again next week, but after that, I can't give you a definite schedule. Sorry. **

**Next chapter: Gaius (I know a lot of you were wondering about him)**


	41. Chapter 40

Gaius was sitting in his workroom, sorting the various herbs that the young village boy had picked for him. Since Merlin's execution, Gaius was in need of another apprentice, mostly due to practical reasons. He could no longer endure the arduous task of laboring in the sun, searching for and picking the right plants, nor the long treks of gathering supplies from the market. He now had Gareth for that.

Of course, Gareth was not replacing Merlin. No one could replace Merlin. Gareth lived with his parents in the upper town of the city, and actually had an official training in the medicinal arts. Unlike Merlin, he showed a huge interest in Gaius' practice, and studiously worked on what Gaius taught him. However, the spark was not there. He came to learn, and regarded Gaius as merely a teacher, never as a mentor or a friend. Their relationship was purely professional.

And, of course, Gaius knew that Merlin was not lost. At least, not in the way that everyone seemed to think he was. He knew that his old ward was out there, somewhere, and just waiting. What he was waiting for, Gaius doubted if even Merlin knew what.

And then there was all the talk about the King and some of the knights going out to find Emrys. Gaius sincerely hoped that they found him, not only for his own peace of mind, but also for the sanity of the kingdom. Camelot became a quiet and desolate place without Merlin. Even people who didn't know him before the execution have been subdued by it.

Gaius sighed as he set down his chopping knife. There was no more work to be done today. Just as he sat back upon his old chair overlooking the citadel, there came a knock at his door.

"Enter," he sighed wearily. Was there no rest for the weary?

When he got back up and turned around, he saw the king standing in front of him, flanked by his more trusted knights, and, to Gaius' surprise, Gwaine.

After just a moment of looking at each other, Gaius addressed the king.

"Is there something you needed, sire?"

Arthur fidgeted slightly before gesturing for Gaius to sit back down. "Just to talk, Gaius. Please."

The physician complied readily and looked expectantly at the party that had invaded his chambers.

Arthur sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and then spoke the words that Gaius had been waiting to hear for six months.

"Merlin's alive."

Gaius showed no emotion outwardly, yet inside he let his feelings run free with relief. _Merlin is safe_. _He is okay, he is alive, and he is safe. _That's all that mattered.

Still, he maintained his cold and indifferent exterior, the one that he always wore now when dealing with the king. He still did not understand nor forgive Arthur's judgment. Gaius remained silent.

"We found him in the Perilous Lands, living alone," continued Arthur who was trying to fill the silence with anything. "We talked to him, we know he is Emrys. We asked him to help us, I practically begged for his help. I've hurt him, Gaius, I know I have, and I know I've hurt you and this whole fiasco with his execution, I thought he was dead, Gaius, I really did, and I can never forgive myself for what I've done to him and to you and to this kingdom with that decision, but it wasn't even my own and I'm so incredibly—"

"That's enough, Sire," interrupted Gaius coldly. Arthur fell silent and withered slightly under the stern gaze of the old man. Gaius stared at him, and then at every one of the surrounding knights. None could help but fidget under his stare.

"I know," Gaius said finally, his face breaking into a look of relief.

It was the knights' turn to stare, this time in disbelief. How could Gaius have known? Did Merlin keep in contact with him? And if he knew, why did he close himself off so much? Why didn't he tell them?

Finally Gaius gestured for the knights to sit down themselves before he started talking. Still unsure as to how to handle this new information, they each found an open space in the workroom and waited expectantly.

"Merlin had an escape plan, in the face of the possibility that he be sentenced with execution. I believe he had it developed to a point when you first returned home with him after finding out, but he didn't have the finer details worked out yet. He was eventually able to figure out the rest when he got back, but he needed my help. You didn't think he'd be able to escape all on his own, did you?" Gaius offered them a small smile.

The knights were trying to process this information. Gaius had helped Merlin escape? He knew from the beginning that Merlin was alive? Nothing seemed to make sense anymore.

"And so he told me what he needed, and I helped him," Gaius finished.

The group stared for a while as they began to understand. Merlin had known that he could escape. He never truly believed himself to be in any danger. And, if their conversation with him gave any indication, he always knew from the start that Arthur wasn't acting on his own accord. He was aware of the magical controlling force behind the scenes, and he knew that he could and would easily forgive Arthur.

Yet, now, he still wasn't here. Merlin was still absent, leaving Camelot alone without her personal protector. They were alone and facing the most fearsome magical enemy they could possibly imagine.

"So how is he?" asked Gaius. "I haven't heard a thing from him when he left, and having to keep even his mother in the dark about his survival was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do."

Gwaine opened his mouth to answer the physician, when the warning sounded, interrupting him.

"What's—"

There came a large boom that shook the whole castle and caused dust to settle to the ground from the ceiling. Screams rose from city and the orders of knights were barely audible over the scrambling of people. From Gaius' window, they could see the people running towards the castle for safety, children crying and screaming for their mothers, knights trying to gain some kind of control over the situation.

In the distance, a small dot appeared out of nowhere. As it came closer, it became larger and larger until it was obvious that the dot was in fact a very large fireball, burning only itself and headed directly at the castle. No catapult could possibly launch that from such a distance.

"TAKE COVER!" Arthur shouted as he saw how close that it was coming to the physicians quarters.

They had barely gotten out of harms direct way when the walls shuddered and the windows shattered. Several vials from the shelves crashed to the ground as books fell from their places on the walls.

There was only one way that that fireball could have reached Camelot from that distance. There was only one person who would attack Camelot with this much ferocity.

Morgana had started her war.

* * *

**Author's Note: Yeah, I know. I told you guys last chapter that I won't be able to post regularly for a while, and then I leave off this chapter like this. I just felt that it was time for the story to actually start picking up again. There's been a lull for a while. Not fillers, per say, they were important chapters, but more just building up to the actual events. So yeah, here. I will try my best to update ASAP, but please don't come and complain to me about taking forever, I have given you fair warning. Thanks!**

**Also, eventually, this story will appear on Archive of Our Own, and it will probably be an extended version. This feels pretty rushed to me, so I'm going to add to it once I'm done here and post the edited and extended version there. I'll post a link once it's done, but don't expect that one for a long time. Those are just my plans. **

**Also, I'm just curious, and please don't feel obligated or whatever to do so, but have some of you been recommending this story to people? It's just that it'll be a couple weeks since my last update and suddenly I get a random +5 followers in one day. I'm just curious, and if you are, thank you so much! If not, well then thanks for scrolling through several pages of listed fanfics to find this one. You rock.**


	42. Chapter 41

Merlin looked at the groups of people who had gathered around him. He was surprised at the amount of Druids that came to his aid. Over 100 of them, all trained and practiced in healing and protection. Some had even offered to fight, willing to abandon their traditions for the sake of this battle. Merlin knew that he could never fully express his gratitude, but also realized that they didn't need to hear it. They understood what this meant, and there was no way that they were taking this decision lightly.

Alice started calling all those who had healing gifts towards her, to begin their actual training. The Druids were discussing protection spells and the different strengths and weaknesses of certain ones. Everything was working out perfectly.

Gilli walked over to Merlin's side, and watched their progress with him.

"It's hard to imagine, that just a few weeks ago, I thought you were dead. I thought that I would never have the chance of freedom again."

"And that's all we have now," replied Merlin. "A chance. But that's more than we've ever had, and we'll take it while we can."

"You said Arthur knows you're alive?" Gilli enquired, looking up at Merlin. "That he's accepted you?"

Merlin turned to face Gilli, and saw the doubt and hesitation in his eyes.

Just as Merlin opened his mouth to reassure Gilli of his certainty, a horn sounded. Merlin had set up the system in case of an emergency. There was no telling of when Morgana would attack, and no telling of who might stumble upon their camp.

"What is it?" he demanded as the lookout rode up to them, looking distressed.

"Tyrdoc has sent word," he said hurriedly. "Camelot is under attack."

* * *

Arthur and his knights now stood on the ramparts of the castle, shouting instructions over the chaos. Gwaine had gone down to the lower town to bring the people there closer to the heart of the citadel, though no place was truly safe from this attack. Leon and Percival were in the courtyard, organizing the troops and fighting back on the ground. A small ground troop of sorcerers had charged the castle, and had made it to the gates of the citadel. It was only good fortune that they had not broken through yet, but even the famed knights of Camelot were no match for an army of sorcerers.

The air hummed with magic, but instead of the peaceful and calm presence the knights had felt while at the fisher king's realm, this magic was distracted. It buzzed with frantic chaos, as if trying to find something and had yet to be satisfied.

Arthur looked down at his courtyard. It was now almost completely empty of citizens of Camelot, and only knights were left, trying their best to fight with the sorcerers. Most of Morgana's army had opted for a long range fight, but were still too close for his archers to hit without endangering his own soldiers.

Bodies lie strewn in the streets and the blood of Camelot flooded the ruts. Only now did he realize how dire their situation currently was; while they weren't outnumbered, they were clearly outmatched and out-skilled, and there was no real hope for victory at this point.

Earlier, when the fight had first started, there had appeared a small glimmer of hope that they could win, but it was too late now.

* * *

_Arthur and the knights ran out of the physician's chambers, and Gaius himself headed towards the great hall to prepare for the casualties and injuries he knew were inevitable. Arthur barked his orders at the knights around him, and they went to their respective tasks without question. _

_The king had just finally crested the top of the stairs that led to the ramparts, and there he looked out. Though it was a small army, he knew of their potential. Any army trained by Morgana was a formidable one, and not to be underestimated. She would have only taken the best of the best. _

_Another giant fireball came flying towards the castle, falling short and landing in the upper town. Townspeople were running and screaming, holding tight onto their children and heading to the only safe haven they knew of: the castle. They believed that the solid stonework of the structure sheltered them, and that once they were in, no one else could enter. _

_Arthur let them believe that, because he was sure as hell not going to let anyone else enter his home without dying first. _

_He looked over the city, towards the forest from which the army emerged. He could see, even at this distance, standing there, two figures each holding a torch. One he recognized immediately as Morgana, from her wild hair and tattered black dress. The other..._

_He was familiar, the one who stood with her. He looked much more tense than she did, not enjoying the sight of battle as much as his sister. He could tell his build was rather short, kind of stocky, yet he held himself with the discipline of a Camelot knight—_

_A Camelot knight. _

Arthur…

_A voice sounded in his head, faint and distant, sounding scared and strained._

Arthur… I am…

_It was a familiar voice. There was no mistaking it anymore. The man beside Morgana, the man he had saved as a child—_

…so… sorry…

_Arthur stared at Mordred as the voice faded into nothingness around him. The din of battle crashed upon his ears again, but he still was lost in his mind. There was Mordred, standing beside Morgana, helping and fighting with her. But there was some hope. If he had been able to communicate through whatever she was holding him with—_

_A large explosion disrupted his thoughts as a good portion of the lower town went up in flames. All thought of Mordred left his mind._

* * *

That glimmer of hope was gone. It had gone within ten minutes of the battle after his observations. Mordred couldn't help them, and they were fighting a losing battle. Most of his knights had fallen dead, and he had seemingly burnt his only magical protection at the stake six months ago, only for him to be alive but unwilling to help.

The king steeled his nerves to go down fighting. He would not surrender to Morgana, he would not abandon his people to her tyranny, and if they did fall to her, they would know that their king had died fighting for them.

Yet another fireball came from the distance, headed straight for the ramparts at which he was standing. He stood, for a moment, transfixed at the sight before realizing that he should move. Still, he remained where he was, in a state of resigned bliss, having just come to accept his inevitable death.

Soon, he realized something was wrong. Well, not necessarily wrong, but just… not right.

He should have been hit by now. The fireball was still in the air, but it had yet to reach its target. In fact, it was as if time had slowed for him, that everything had decided that reality was too fastly paced and needed to slow down. But as he looked around him, he noted that everything else was just as fast as before; the knights were fighting with as much speed and agility as before, even if fatigued. The sorcerer's spells were working and speeding through the air just as swiftly and deftly as before. It was just the fireball…

And now when he looked back at it, it had completely stopped in midair, about ten feet from the edge of the battlement at which he stood. He could feel its heat radiating off it, roasting him in his armor, but not moving an inch closer.

Then, ever so slowly, it began to move away from him, back in the direction from which it came. It gained speed, new momentum, and with an almighty CRASH landed in the midst of the enemy sorcerers, exploding and taking more of Morgana's army with it.

After staring for just a few seconds longer to try and comprehend what just happened, he turned his gaze back to where he knew Morgana and Mordred had been. They hadn't moved throughout the whole fight, and even from this distance, Arthur could see the rage and anger radiating off of his sister. At least she didn't know what had happened either.

Quickly, Arthur scanned the edges of the forest, trying to figure out what was going on. There was nothing besides the dark shadows cast…

Wait! There, at almost the opposite end of the wood, a small figure shrouded in the shadows stood. Arthur was unable to make out any of the details of his face, but there was something familiar about that man. But, it couldn't be… could it?

_No_, he scolded himself. It's just wishful thinking. _Morgana is flanking us, attacking from behind as well._

_That still didn't make sense_, he thought. _Why would Morgana attack her own army?_

The figure in the shadows moved again, and became surrounded by a large group of people emerging from the forest. Some were holding torches, but others just had what appeared to be fire in their hands.

Sorcerers. These people were sorcerers, even more of them, and Arthur had no idea how he could possibly get out of this battle alive now. There was no way—

But then that center figure stepped forward, out of the shadow, into the light, and Arthur could not stop the gasp that escaped him, nor ignore the tears that pricked from behind his eyes.

Merlin had shown up.

* * *

**Author's Note: Oh. My. Goodness. 500 followers. I can't believe that there are so many of you who think that this story is worth following and reading, and to those of you who have been recommending it to people (if you have at all), thank you soooooooo much! You're all amazing and wonderful and thank you for understanding the issues with posting and stuff. **

**Also, still at camp, so still not much time for writing and posting, but I'm working on it. This was a nice long chapter that I've been trying to work on during my breaks. **

**Random sidenote: I'm rooting for the new royal baby to be named Arthur. I think it's fitting. **


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